


Little Nutbrown Hare

by poeticandvaguelysweet



Category: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Kidfic, is that even a surprise to anyone??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-06-24 09:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15628185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticandvaguelysweet/pseuds/poeticandvaguelysweet
Summary: She was small, helpless and unable to voice her decision in the matter when Claire plucked the baby from her crib and fled Lockwood Manor without looking back.Can they make things work for their relationship and the two-month-old they kidnapped? Will they crack under pressure or flourish in newfound roles?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The people have spoken. I asked a twitter poll if I should just post the first chapter or work on the fic more. 63% told me to post. Here you have it. 
> 
> No one really asked for this. There were a few people on twitter who finally encouraged me to work on it and push through my guilt for not spending time on prompts. 
> 
> It is nowhere near finished so please be patient. I am so excited to share Maisie Grady with you all. I’m scared I haven’t worked out all the knots but y’all are usually pretty open-minded when I throw peculiar things at you.

They had escaped. The Stygimoloch travelling in the opposite direction as Claire and Owen took to the stairs. They climbed their way to the second level of the holding bay, reaching rows of glass that served to separate the lab equipment from the cells.

There were was no one. The space desolate of human life as noise seemed to cluster in a different part of the manor’s basement. Owen and Claire crept down hallways not encountering a single soul as noise ricocheted off the walls, nothing but mumbles the further they got away from it. Owen decided it was a bad idea to move towards whatever was happening. Eli Mills and Ken Wheatley had left them for dead and locked them up more than he was happy with for a 48 hour period.

She followed, the two of them silent as their boots moved across the floor. Owen picked a door to his left, leading them both into another empty lab. The air was still while she waited for him to move, the sweat on their bodies lingering under her nose as Owen extended an arm in front of her. For a long while, her breathing was all she could hear, tangling with Owen’s just a step in front of her while Claire’s ears prickled to noticed what he had. For a beat, nothing stepped forward, growled, clicked or spoke.

Claire was about to hiss ‘ _what?’_  at him, leaning into his shoulder when she heard it. A cry. Definitely human but not adult. The sound was strangled, tested out on new lungs, only small and still forming. Her eyes darted around the space, absorbing the lab, looking for the similarities between this one and the others they had seen. She just wanted it to be the same, another dinosaur incubation lab, breeding a cloned life where it shouldn’t be.

Owen took a small step forward, and Claire followed, matching each move with one of her own, respecting the silent rule that she had to stay behind him.

Standing in the centre of the room, blue light their only guidance as it radiated off sleeping monitors with bubbles rolling across their screens. A few were on, globes embedded in the shelves, ice blue and clinical. More for decoration than what they were a practical purpose. It hadn’t mattered. Claire’s eyes settled on a corner of the room, where the small cry had come from. Sitting there was a crib. ‘Owen …?’ She whispered.

Owen kept his distance. Claire losing visual track of him as she stepped closer. He wanted to leave. She could feel it. There was something about this whole thing that made him antsy. He didn’t want to step closer to that crib, didn’t want to tangle their lives with whatever lay on the other side of the side panel. If he saw, he would be compelled to do something, and Owen wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He just wanted to turn a blind eye and not get involved any further.

‘C’mon, this ain’t none of our business. We need to keep moving.’ He reached for her, fingers grazing the tacky material of her shirt, salt dried into the threads, making it stiff. ‘Claire.’ He said her name when his touch didn’t get her attention. His head ached, whole body exhausted from the day they had. This was their opportunity to get out, find safety and let their bodies collapse in a heap on the floor. He just wanted to put his guard down and not have to pick it back up again at least for twenty-four hours.

She wasn’t listening.

Instead, Claire had inched close enough to peer into the crib in the corner. The cry sounded a second time, looking for something but unable to communicate as Claire laid eyes on the baby within. ‘It’s a baby.’ She told him, voice hollow as her brows knitted together in concern. She looked for him over her shoulder, finding his back to her as she turned back to the tiny life they had uncovered.

The baby was small. Blanket loose around their little body as arms and legs slowly managed to wiggle free. Claire watched, caught in the movement of the child, head tilted towards the wall of the crib, mouth open and searching. She was drawn in and unable to pull herself away as she watched the baby move, another cry falling from its small lips. The little body rocked with a cry, an instinct flaring in Claire as she reached down to pick the baby up, blanket and all.

She could have sworn it was instinct, a need to protect as she reached in, fingers itching to set themselves against the warm body and soothe the baby’s upset. It had been years since her nephews were little and even then, Zach had been the only she had experience with during infancy. Claire was sure she could remember how to hold a child that small, it hummed within her along with the need in her chest begging her to move.

Her movements were slow, hands gentle under neck and back as inch by inch the baby rose out of the crib. When Claire turned, infant snug in the crook of her arm Owen had his head down, hands flicking through a folder.

‘Maisie.’ Claire and Owen said at the same time. Her fingers had found a small name tag around the child’s ankle just as Owen lifted his head from the papers he was reading. He finished the name, sounds drifting off into the quiet lab as she stared. It wasn’t every day that he saw Claire Dearing standing in front of him, holding a baby, blankets dangling from her arms. If it weren’t for the state of her clothes and the scratch on her chin, that vision would have fit perfectly into a daydream he would have denied ever having.

On the counter in the centre of the room sat the folder Owen had been leafing through. There was a picture of the baby stuck to the cover, her name written in thick sharpie underneath it along with a series of numbers neither Owen or Claire knew what to do with.

‘Why is she in here all alone?’ Claire asked, wide eyes fixing on Owen before they drifted to the grizzling girl in her arms, body so unbelievably light but stable in her grasp.  

What could Owen say? He didn’t have the answers to that question, only a shrug. Claire wasn’t buying it. ‘Says in here she’s only a few months old.’ Two to be exact, as two of his large fingers tapped on the cover. ‘Put her down.’ It was more of a demand than a request, ‘We need to get out of here’. Her feet were glued to the floor, Claire unable to move despite knowing that she needed to turn around and put the baby back where she had pulled her from. She shouldn’t have picked her up in the first place, but something told her too, the exact same thought that suggested the baby go with them.

‘I can’t.’ She admitted, arms tightening on the baby.

Owen turned back to her, ‘Claire, we  _really_  need to go’.

She shook her head. ‘I can’t put her down.’ She wanted to. Claire  _needed_  to do as Owen said, follow his lead, find their friends and get the hell out of Lockwood Manor before one species or the other managed to break out and wreak havoc on the house. ‘Why is she in here alone … in a lab?’ She asked a second time, Owen just as short of answers as he had been earlier. ‘There are  _dinosaurs_  out there,’ only a floor or two below them, ‘We can’t leave her.’ She wouldn’t. ‘She’s in here crying, all by herself … she’s too young to be alone.’ He saw the way her grip tightened, her eyes pleading with him to  _do_ something. He could nod his head and agree that she come with them, or he could physically take that baby out of her arms.

Something was stopping Owen too, a softness settling over his features as worry stirred in his gut. No baby that small with a loving mother and father, in a safe home environment, would be left on their own … in a lab … with a folder that had her name and picture on it.

Claire stood in the one spot, rocking the infant she held. The cries quietened, and Owen felt his heart crack at the sight of Claire watching that little girl. ‘I swear to God, Claire, do not make me put that baby’s life above your own.’ He knew it would happen, the need to choose between her or a two-month-old defenceless life. Just like she was making him approve of leaving or taking the baby. Something would happen. Something was bound to happen in this haunted mansion esque building filled with prehistoric creatures that weren’t even supposed to be there, to begin with. It was destined to go wrong.

But this changed everything. Owen wouldn’t put a baby at risk just so he could find Blue nor would he venture further into the manor to locate Zia and Franklin. They would have to make do on their own because his priorities had just been changed dramatically.

She nodded, short and sharp, a small smile pulling at her lips as she stepped into line behind him. He had a hand on the handle, ready to lead them back into the hallway when Owen stopped, turned, retrieved the file he had briefly glanced at and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

‘You need to keep her quiet.’ Owen warned, door peeling away from the jamb as he stepped out, checking the coast was clear before he motioned for Claire to follow.

Of all things, Claire Dearing didn’t know how to keep a baby quiet. Nevertheless, she nodded, looking down at Maisie as if to put the promise on the child herself. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

[…]

It didn’t hit her until they were standing in a Walmart a few hours South-East of Lockwood Manor. They took a baby. Kidnapped her. Stole the child right from her crib. A baby that probably had a mother. And yet, Claire couldn’t seem to find any remorse as Owen drove a stolen car, Claire sitting beside him, holding onto the baby tightly as they travelled without a car seat.

Owen had a buddy who lived nearby, the kind of friend he gained in the NAVY that owed him a favour. He knew the address, pulled up in a driveway, told Claire to wait in the car. His friend gave them keys to another vehicle, one not stolen, promising to get rid of the one they had parked in his driveway. He also handed Owen a stack of cash that, if spent wisely, could last them a couple of weeks. Neither of them had their wallets, the realisation dawning on Claire that her phone was gone too.

She felt like they were breaking the law, holding a baby that wasn’t hers on a strangers property as Owen exchanged quiet details. He wanted to leave her there, thirty minutes max while he ventured out to the nearest department store and purchased a car seat. Claire insisted that Owen didn’t know what he was doing before she climbed into the car and buckled herself in.

If she was completely sincere, Claire didn’t know what she was looking for in car seats either as they stood in the empty store during the graveyard shift. Owen had to hunt down a college student that worked there, someone who directed him to another staff member able to assist. The girl that helped was too chipper for 11PM after the last few days they had. She was a sight for sore eyes nonetheless as she cooed at the baby Claire held, promising to take the car seat up to the registers but not before she helped them with anything else.

Claire hated feeling useless. She shooed the girl away despite needing extra assistance as they wandered towards baby bottles, pacifiers, toys and formula. ‘How do you know what to get?’ Owen asked, feeling a little baffled as they stood in front of a row of bottles. All of them promising to be ‘no nipple confusion’, ’95% baby acceptance’ that also promote ‘healthy oral development’ along with other things that were making him uncomfortable and confused.

She shrugged, ‘Karen had these when Zach was a baby,’ or at least the brand looked familiar. She threw a box into their shopping cart before reaching for a pack of pacifiers. ‘We need to feed her, soothe her, entertain her — diapers!’ She was counting things off in her head, a mental checklist with her arms full, Owen pushing the cart behind her.

‘It’s only for a few days, Claire.’ They needed to lay low. Not bring attention to themselves, and then he would take Maisie into a police station, her file in hand and tell them where to look for her parents. A week max but no longer than that. They couldn’t raise a baby … not a stolen one at least.

Something slid across her face, a wall or sliding glass door as she turned back to him, a tin of formula slipping from her hands and into the cart. ‘Babies need a lot of things, Owen.’ He was learning that she wasn’t wrong in that regard.

‘But, you agree? We’re not keeping her.’ He stopped Claire’s hip right beside the cart, her back to him as Owen tried to peer around her shoulder. She only sidestepped the cart, turning the corner and disappearing until he followed.

‘I need you to pick one of these up.’ Boxes of diapers were stacked in six rows each of them one box too high above her head. Claire tapped on the appropriately sized box before she walked away from him, dancing a small sensory teddy over the baby’s head.

‘I need to know we’re on the same page.’ He followed her, Claire stopping at the baby clothes, her hand dusting over a few items before she picked them up. She was ignoring him, and that alone told Owen there was too much on her mind. He couldn’t tell if she was using the baby to divert other trauma’s in her mind or if something else was happening.

‘She looks too small for this.’ The tag read 0-3 Months but held up in the air it looked bigger than what would be comfortable on the small girl. He hummed, agreeing but unable to reach a solution. ‘I understand.’ Claire admitted with a sigh. ‘I just don’t know how comfortable I feel with sending her back there.’ Back to the lab. He let go of their shopping cart to reach over and squeeze her arm. Owen felt the exact same, but maybe there was something in her file that would get the girl adopted instead of sent back to her parents. ‘I knew Benjamin Lockwood. Had met him briefly,’ Owen already knew, they had discussed it a little in the car when she came to recruit him for the return mission to Isla Nublar. ‘He was a nice man. He told me only a few months ago that he wanted to save the dinosaurs, to clear both of our names from the disasters that had been Jurassic Park and World. I believed him, but I was also misled.’

‘I don’t think it had anything to do with Lockwood, Claire. I think it was all that fucker who was with Wheatley — I really wish you let me break his arm.’

She saw his fists clench and shook her head; ‘Wouldn’t have been worth it’.  

‘Was breaking his nose worth it?’ He asked, a smile pulling at his lips as he watched a flush colour her cheeks.

‘Definitely.’ Owen whispered a quiet ‘ _good’_  in return, his lips lowering to meet her cheek on reflex. It wasn’t until he made contact with her skin that he realised they didn’t do that anymore. Claire didn’t pull away. In fact, a breathless sound drifted past her lips, her eyes fluttering closed on contact. ‘I just, I hope Lockwood had nothing to do with this.’ Her eyes were on the baby again, the same full look in chartreuse he saw earlier. He couldn’t call her on it, wouldn’t, for fear that it would push her away. Owen saw then that it was going to be hard letting going of this baby when the time came.

‘It was a big house. I’m sure there were lots of things going on that he wasn’t aware of.’ He reassured before picking up a smaller size in the exact same onesie and lying it out across the girl in her arms. ‘I think this one will fit better.’ He saw her dazzled eyes, confusion mixing in those perfect depths. ‘I have a nephew too, you know.’ He shrugged, wandering off with the trolley as Claire continued her shop.

She wasn’t looking when he added a small pack of baby socks to the cart, little animal faces sitting on top of the knee. She would have rolled her eyes if she saw them, gaze softening as she realised everything they had just done … taking a baby … he wouldn’t have changed a single thing if given the opportunity.

[…]

Owen didn’t want to stop the car, Claire situated in the back with the baby in her brand new car seat. He wanted to drive until he physically couldn’t, but it was Maisie crying in the backseat that made him stop a few hours before the sun rose.

The motel was small, nondescript and unmemorable. It was suitable enough to stop. They needed to shower, sleep and eat something outside of the moving vehicle. The baby needed it too.

‘Do you think she’s okay?’ Claire asked, the baby stretched out on the centre of the bed, lying on the blanket they had stolen her in. She had her small arms curled up by her ears, fingers rolled into fists as her little body stretched, mouth opening wide before she closed it and resumed sleeping. Claire was exhausted, her whole body ready to give in and collapse. She couldn’t take her eyes off the girl. Couldn’t move to disturb her, only watch the baby closely as her chest rose and fell and her bowed legs twitched.

Owen hummed, towel shaking water from his hair as he sat on the edge of the small breakfast table. ‘She looks fine.’ He offered, looking up from the ground. ‘Go take a shower.’ They had a big thirty-six hours, Claire still wearing the same thing, dirt caked onto her jeans and her skin tacky with sweat. ‘I’ll watch her.’ He promised, shoo-ing her off.

He felt lost when the bathroom door shut behind Claire. A baby was sleeping in the middle of their hotel bed. It had been too long since he had seen a kid this small. He didn’t know what to do with her other than watch mildly until he found the energy to stand, drop the towel around his waist and pull on a new pair of underwear.

The pipes in the walls rattled when Claire turned the shower on, something about the wheeze and whistle disturbed the baby who started to cry. He looked at her, watching her small face screw up as her mouth rattled and her arms shook. Temporarily he forgot what to do. He could read her cries like a new parent could. He had no connection to her beyond allowing Claire to pluck her out of a laboratory crib purely because he would have done the same. Something in her cry broke through to him alongside the want to soothe her before Claire came barrelling out of the shower. He reached down, large hands sliding under her too small body. It came back to him, the first time he held his brother’s son, supporting the head in the curve of his hand as he brought the baby to his chest.

In the bathroom, Claire heard Maisie crying just as she began to lather her hair with motel grade shampoo. She hesitated, fingers caught in red strands as she strained her ears to listen into the other room. Momentarily, she wondered if it would be worth washing the product out of her hair and rushing in to rescue Owen. But, by the time the suds were gone from her strands, Maisie had stopped. She told herself she needed to breathe. In a matter of six hours, that baby had become her sole focus, Claire almost losing sight of herself and the importance of keeping her hair clean (on her own personal scale of needs). She built up a second shampoo lather, deciding that if there was silence than Owen and Maisie were secure in the company of the other while she basked in the warm water soothing the aches of her body.

With the dirt scrubbed from her skin thanks to a questionable bar of soap, Claire deemed herself acceptable enough to step out of the shower. She had the forethought to take her new clothing with her, changing quickly with anxiousness to return to the girl and man she had left alone.

When the bathroom door opened, steam rolling out with her, Claire was met with the sight of Owen stretched out in the middle of the hotel bed. He was lying on his back, one hand sitting on his chest, anchoring the small bundle that was Maisie, almost shrinking under his palm. Claire stopped in her tracks caught by the vision of them, his chest rising the baby with every deep breath he took.

‘You okay?’ She asked, creeping across the room and gently crawling onto the bed. She was careful not to disturb the baby who was sleeping again, lips pursed, her cheek heavy against his bare chest.

His hand readjusted its grip on Maisie’s back, Owen giving Claire a nod in answer to her question. Something was twisting in her gut, making her cheeks warm and her vision blur as she watched him hold the baby. Maybe it was a bad idea taking the girl. Her appearance in their lives was suddenly trying to convince Claire that they could have this life, that they should have had this life if she didn’t tell him to walk away.

‘I think she needs a bottle before she goes to sleep’ She suggested, lip between her teeth being worried with uncertainty as Claire questioned the basic knowledge she had.

Owen raised his arm, taking his hand to the back of her head as he patted her damp hair. ‘Claire,’ He hummed, waiting for her to respond. She nodded, finding his eyes in the waking light of their motel room. ‘Just get some sleep.’ Claire lowered her head to the pillow beside him, trying not to overthink the fact that they were sharing a bed again. Instead, she focused on Maisie, one of her hands joining his on her back.

There was no way she could sleep safely like that on Owen’s chest. He would have to move her before he fell asleep but Claire didn’t have the energy to raise her head again to tell him. She fell asleep with the feeling of his fingers in her hair, the warmth of a baby under her fingertips and the smell of Owen so close to her nose it was almost the sole thing that knocked her out.

[…]

She woke to the sound of quiet cries, the baby already ingraining herself into the back of Claire’s mind. Her eyes snapped open, searching the empty bed in front of her, her body lacking the warmth of her sleeping partner. Her heart started to hammer beneath her ribs as she slowly sat finding the room empty but the sound of the baby still ringing in her ears.

It hadn’t been a dream. Claire knew that much. Jurassic World. Lockwood Manor.  _Owen._  Maisie. It was all real. She could still smell the baby in her nose and feel the press of his lips against her cheek. She could remember the burn of saltwater in her lungs and the dusty smell of the old gyrosphere.

Trying to catch her breath, Claire pulled herself out of the old bed, feet hesitating against the rough motel carpet as she followed the sounds of the baby she stole. Owen was sitting outside their motel room, propped up in a wooden rocker that was stationed between every two doors. He had Maisie tucked into his arm, the dark hair on her head appearing beyond the bend in his elbow as his other hand held a bottle.

‘Sorry.’ He apologised, head lifting from the infant to catch Claire closing their motel door behind her quietly. ‘I was trying to keep her quiet.’ Owen explained, wanting Claire to get more than a few hours of shut-eye before the baby started to grizzle. ‘She doesn’t like the bottle much.’ The look on his face was pained as he returned his eyes to the baby, rubbing the teat of her bottle against her bottom lip, trying to encourage her to take it. It was making the process difficult because she wouldn’t take it but there was nothing more that Owen could do. Claire was awake, he had already failed in that regard

‘Maybe she was exclusively breastfed?’ Claire shrugged her shoulders, a single finger stretching out to stroke the soft hair on Maisie’s scalp.

Owen hummed. ‘She doesn’t have a mother.’

‘I mean, sure, we found her alone, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a woman out there missing her child right now.’ He could only hope no one had noticed she was missing or at least had taken them some time.

‘She doesn’t have a mother.’ Owen repeated, his face drawn in contemplation as he lifted it to face her once again. Claire blinked at him, mouth open and puzzled. He rested the baby’s bottle on her chest, freeing his hand to pluck the folder he had tucked between his thigh and the arm of the chair out from its place. ‘They … ah, they were using her? She’s some kind of project.’ He told her, offering the folder in explanation.

Claire shook her head. She didn’t want to know. Her eyes darted from the folder to the baby. She reached for her, both arms extended, fingers itching. ‘Can I have her?’ She asked when he didn’t move, stepping in front of him and bending to collect the girl without even waiting for his nod and breathless, ‘ _of course’_.    

Maisie cried in Claire’s arms, just as she had with Owen. She rocked her, swaying her hips and bouncing in her step as she accepted the warm bottle he held out for her. The baby begrudgingly allowed it this time, face turned towards Claire’s chest as she grunted against the plastic. Claire grinned at him, a little triumphant that she could get the baby to do what he couldn’t.

‘I don’t think we can take her back to Lockwood Manor. She isn’t safe there.’

‘What should we do?’ Owen watched her, fighting back the small smile that was trying to poke through. It was mid-morning, Claire standing in front of him barefoot in pyjamas rocking a baby like she was made to do it. ‘We can’t just  _leave_  her somewhere.’ She worried about the option of turning her little life into the police and asking them to deal with it. ‘She’s only going to end up back where she came from.’ That was if they were looking for her. There was a chance if no one stepped forward the baby would end up in the system and at two-months-old Claire was sure she could find herself a friendly home.

They were quiet, nothing but Maisie’s suckles in the air around them. Owen was the first to sigh, hand scrubbing over his face as he shielded his eyes. ‘I don’t know, Claire.’ He breathed, trying to think about it and the things he had seen. She didn’t want to know. Had shaken her head at the chance when he offered. And yet, it sat in his lap answers trying to reach for her.

‘Did they hurt her?’ She asked, voice low and scared, arms tightening their hold on the baby.

Owen moved his hand, green eyes meeting hers. ‘I don’t know. There’s a flash drive I can’t look at just yet.’ From what he had read they mostly deprived her of contact. Left her to lie on her own and self-soothe since she was born.

‘We can’t send her back.’ She told him, urgently like he didn’t already think the place was a bad idea. ‘No wonder she’s so small.’ He answered with something from Maisie’s file a dislike in bottles. ‘They were treating her like an animal, Owen.’ Tears were burning in her eyes as he rattled off this and that from her file. ‘Is there something wrong with her? Is she sick? Contagious?’ Her lip curled, almost disgusted but her grip on the baby didn’t weaken. She was holding on tight with no intention to let go.

‘Not from what I read. Maisie would have been better secluded if she was contagious.’ A room in the middle of an empty hallway three floors below ground was pretty secluded if he had to think of a definition. ‘We need to take …’ he stopped, watching a hot tear slip down Claire’s cheek. She was shaking her head, backing away with two steps. ‘Claire, what?’ He softened, catching her guard up, eyes wide and scared. ‘Hey, calm down.’ He stood, hands up by his chest approaching her like a frightened animal.

She shook her head, taking her eyes off him to watch the baby in her arms. Owen wasn’t the threat. He wouldn’t hurt her. She would have time to run if she needed it. ‘Can’t we keep her?’ She didn’t look at him, tears rolling down her cheeks and landing in dark spots on the baby’s onesie. ‘If she has nowhere to go? Nowhere  _safe_  … can’t we  _try_  to do something right by her? I can do a better by her. Better than what she had.’

Owen shook his head. ‘We don’t know the first thing about raising a kid. We ain’t even together.’ He didn’t have a single worry that she  _wouldn’t_  be a good mom, because he knew she would outshine so many others. Owen just knew she couldn’t do this alone, would need support and strength. They weren’t a couple anymore. What would happen if they imploded again?

‘But we can try! We got through the night. She’s eating now.’ She gestured, raising the baby in her arms, eyes closed, mouth still moving around the teat of the bottle. ‘Please,  _Owen_ , I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happens to her.’ Her grip tightened, finger pushing into the blanket by the baby’s small thigh. ‘I can’t willingly let her go back to being a  _guinea pig.’_ She hissed, making Owen flinch.

‘I wasn’t suggesting that.’ He was just trying to think logically.

Determination burned in her eyes, contrasting the tears on her cheeks. ‘Can you take us to Karen’s?’ That was it. She didn’t have the money or the confidence to put herself and the baby on a plane. Karen and her boys were still living in Madison, Wisconsin and where that was an easy forty hour drive from California, Owen and Claire were already sitting on the Nevada state line. It was still a big drive, but they had already started. Owen was the one who suggested they needed to lay low. A road trip with nothing but cash and a car they traded would make them virtually untraceable.

He nodded, hesitantly. It was a big task to get them that far. He could do it, but it would take time. ‘Yeah.’ He cleared his throat, trying for a stronger sound. ‘Yeah, I can do that.’

 

* * *

 

[I busted my butt on a banner for tumblr and ain't no good at adding pictures here. Check it out. ](https://poeticandvaguelysweet.tumblr.com/post/176807036234/jurassic-world-summary-she-was-small-helpless)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road trip continues, Claire takes a giant leap in motherhood and Owen realises he can't be anywhere without them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s another big chunk of baby Maisie. I hope you missed her! And, I hope you like this update. You know where my inbox is. Gotta give some love to get some more.

 

‘She’s not eating,’ Claire whimpered, voice raised over the baby’s cries as she turned helpless eyes towards him. Maisie was propped up in one arm, arms and legs kicking as her face screwed up and turned red, Claire trying to put the bottle against her lips with no luck. She was rocking her, bouncing, movements uneven as her arms got sore.

Owen looked at her, unsure of what answer she wanted. She knew as much as he did when it came to babies. ‘Are you holding her right?’ Maybe he knew a little more. He shuffled down the bed, sitting beside her as he peered over her shoulder, fingers pushing at her elbow to change the position of Maisie’s head.

Maisie continued to cry, a small hand hitting the bottle as she squirmed. ‘You must be so hungry, baby.’ She cooed, stress evident in her voice as Owen caught her bounce with a little extra force. He put his hand on her arm, trying to calm her, careful of her movements as the baby continued to wail. ‘What have we done?’ She asked, lifting her head again, tears shining in her eyes as the frustration finally started to show.

They had barely slept. Maisie waking them up with her cries that turned into full-blown screaming he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle. She had done everything right. Maisie’s diaper was clean, she was warm, Claire was holding her. The only thing missing was a meal. She was eating yesterday, and now the girl refused to latch on to the very same bottle.

‘I shouldn’t have taken her, Owen. I don’t know what I’m doing.’ He didn’t miss the small sound that strangled itself on her tongue, not quite a sob but near enough. Owen had already told her the baby didn’t have a mother. Maisie was not brought into this world out of love. She was there as an experiment, created by science just like the dinosaurs. He couldn’t tell Claire that, knowing that even if he did it wouldn’t change things. She would only be upset, still clinging to that baby like a lifeline. Maybe she needed to know in order to understand that this wasn’t the worst thing they could do.

‘You’re the best thing she has, I promise.’ Even Claire with no maternal experience was better than where they found her. Safer. At least she was still alive in the morning. ‘You can learn.’ She smiled at her, giving her wide reassurance as the baby between them became nothing but white noise. ‘Maybe there’s a clinic around here, we can pop in. Get some advice. It might be the bottle or the formula … maybe she’s not feeling well.’ They were easy suggestions, thrown out there for peace of mind as Claire slowly nodded in agreement.

She froze. ‘What if they know she’s not ours?’

‘We’ll tell them she’s adopted and we’re on our way through town to visit family.’ It was a simple enough lie. In fact, without the legality of it all, it was the truth.

‘What if they can tell we stole her.’

Owen chuckled, sound thick and warm. ‘They don’t put microchips on babies.’ His features softened, laughter fading out as he bumped his shoulder with hers. ‘We’ll sort this out, okay.’ She didn’t miss the ' _we'_  even though his only part in this was as a transporter. ‘You don’t need to get upset.’ She shook her head, trying to will the tears away. They fell, Claire unable to stop them as one chased a path down her cheek before leaping from her chin and landing right on Maisie’s forehead.

‘I’m just really tried.’ She sniffled, making an excuse for her emotion as Maisie continued to kick, head turning away from the bottle that had now gone cold.

He hummed, of course she was. After the last few days they had and now this, anyone would be exhausted. This was a big adjustment for Claire, and he was sure her mind was running on overdrive, using up all the extra energy it could. ‘Do you want me to take her? Maybe the car will calm her down?’ He could see she was fighting with herself, one part was ready to hand the baby over while the other couldn’t seem to let her go. Owen had seen Claire tired, had seen her exhausted and working herself to the bone, but he had never seen her this run down. ‘It’ll be for an hour, tops.’ He didn’t know what to do with the baby for an hour but needed Claire to close her eyes, he couldn’t keep watching her like that.

Claire gave in with a nod, extending her arms and the baby towards him as Owen stood. Maisie’s cries settled for a second, change of arms causing her to stop and think before she picked up again, Owen trying to encourage her to take the bottle.

He packed her up quickly, placing the tiny girl into the car seat and grabbing the nappy bag for emergencies. Claire looked mournful as they left, Owen telling her to get some sleep as she curled up in the middle of the bed.

When he returned, she was looking better if not a little panicked. Claire leapt for the door when he pushed it open, hovering around him. ‘Where were you?!’ She demanded, panic seeping into her words. ‘You said an hour.’ It had been close to two, and with no phones, Claire had zero ways of contacting him. ‘I thought … I thought you left.’

‘With the baby?’ Owen asked eyebrow raised as he put down a few shopping bags. He turned to head back outside, car sitting in front of their room, Maisie’s car seat still visible from the front windshield. Owen turned his head when she didn’t respond, catching Claire’s bottom lip curled into her teeth. She nodded softly, admitting with a mouse like voice that she thought he might have dropped the baby at the nearest police station before heading on his merry way. ‘I would never do that, Claire.’ If he had, he knew she would not struggle to find him again and kick his ass. Things for Owen were built on mutual respect, he wouldn’t just go against her wishes. Not after what he had read in Maisie’s file. ‘She’s right there.’ Owen pointed towards the car, Claire wasting no time in stepping around him. ‘We got a little distracted.’ He admitted, reaching for her hand to apologise as Claire turned back to him with a soft smile.

The time had done her some good, sleep making all the difference as she quietly admitted she’d only woken up ten minutes ago. Owen watched her reach into the car, back bent as he shamefully admired her ass. It was different now, as she cooed, talking to an infant that wasn’t hers and emerging with said child. ‘What could possibly have distracted you around here?’ She asked, holding Maisie up to her chest, baby’s head sitting against her collarbone as he watched Claire’s full body relax at the contact.

Owen grinned, ‘There was a baby store in town. Maisie was asleep, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take her in.’ From the looks of the bags he brought in, the time there had also made a dent in their funds. ‘I was talking about her not eating, and they suggested something that I thought you might be willing to try.’ He looked proud, chest expanding as he led Claire back inside, his hands ruffling through the two bags as she sat with Maisie on the bed. ‘Its called an SNS: Supplemental Nursing System.’ Owen found the box and handed it to Claire. ‘They said it was a popular product for adoptive moms and that Maisie is young enough that the instinct to nurse is still there. She’d be able to latch without an issue.’

‘It’s like breastfeeding?’

He nodded, expression shy. ‘I learnt a lot today.’ He chuckled, a grin returning to that same feeling of pride washed over his expression. He had been thrilled when the shop owner pointed it out to him. Hesitant about how Claire would react, but also confident that had she been there she would have moved for the same thing. ‘Pretty much, but with formula. I got a few new bottles too in case you didn’t want to … try that.’ He nodded towards the box, Claire reading the packaging as she hummed.

‘Do you think it will be okay?’ She asked, raising her eyes to look at him as Owen stopped in his tracks. ‘What if it only causes her more harm?’ What if it made the baby too attached to her and then she was taken away. She had taken the bottle yesterday, with a grunt and a groan, only drinking half of what she was supposed to. But, it was the bottle. Could they teach her bad habits? Co-dependency? Would it be the worst thing to happen to her?

‘Hey,’ Owen dropped to his knees beside her. ‘You want to keep her, don’t you?’ He waited for her steady nod. ‘I promise you, Claire, no one is getting between you and this little girl. They have to go through me first and I ain’t letting that happen.’ He promised with fierce words, catching her eyes watering once again. ‘She’s better off with you than anyone else, but you don’t have to use the SNS. We can find a bottle she likes, a brand of formula too. We’ll get there. She’s probably being fussy.’

Maisie started to grizzle again, no longer placated by the moving car as Claire began to pat her rump. ‘She doesn’t have a mother.’ She admitted quietly, repeating the words he had told her. ‘I want to use it.’ She wanted to be what the baby didn’t have, ready to step up into new shoes. The thought scared her, but Claire also understood that this was her only opportunity. It was what was best for Maisie, providing that comfort only a mother could provide. ‘Maybe it will help her sleep, too?’ There was always the promise with a full belly that the girl would settle earlier.

Owen hummed, hand squeezing her thigh. ‘Skin contact will be pretty good for her too.’ He offered, remembering hearing mention of that once or twice in his lifetime. ‘Want some help?’ She handed the box over, asking him to open it as Maisie started getting disgruntled.

It took them some time to work the thing out, Owen preparing Maisie’s bottle as Claire unbuttoned her shirt, one handed. 'You're so impatient, little one.' Claire sighed, struggling to hold the baby still and unclasp the front of her bra. ‘I think you need to spend less time with Owen.’ She teased, grinning at the man as he turned, Maisie’s formula ready.  

He shrugged, ‘Nothing wrong with wanting your dinner when you’re hungry. Need a hand?’ He asked, kneeling beside her once again as he placed the open bottle beside his knee. He took both hands to the clasp of her bra, not once raising his eyes to look at her as the fabric gave way. His hands were soft, gentle against her skin as he affixed the tube to her breast as instructed. She hissed at first contact, body jumping before Claire let out a small giggle.

‘Your hands are cold.’ She told him shyly, breath breezing past his forehead as he focused on her task and not the fact that this was the first time he had seen her skin bare in months. It wasn’t about him. This was about Maisie, and it was all supposed to be clinical.

The SNS was simple. It was made up of a pouch to hold the formula, two tubes (one for each breast) and a lanyard to keep the pouch close to Claire’s body and out of the way. With the tube attached to her breast, all Maisie had to do was latch on to Claire’s nipple and start suckling. The plastic was small enough that it wouldn’t interfere with the nursing process at all and allowed the baby to feel like she was nursing instead of being bottle fed.

‘All good.’ Owen announced, pulling away as he placed the lanyard around her neck. He kissed her cheek upon departure, the habit taking control of him. Claire only blinked, giving him a dazed sort of smile that thanked him in a plethora of ways.

She hesitated, eyes raising towards him once again. ‘What do I do?’ Insecurities flooded to the surface, Claire just as nervous and stressed as she had been that morning when Maisie wouldn’t take her bottle. Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this. Owen told her to breathe, his voice calm as he took a step back. He encouraged her to get comfortable, shuffling until her back hit the headboard,. He messed with the pillows, moving and plumping before placing them around her body, supporting Claire’s back and the arm that held the baby.

‘She’ll know what to do.’ He told her, calming her instantly as Claire pulled the baby closer to her chest. She watched Maisie, her head turning back and forth, mouth open and complaining loudly. Owen was right about instinct, even with her eyes closed she was seeking, rooting for a food source her body was telling her should be there. Maisie breathed in a little snort, her top lip gracing the skin of Claire’s breast. It was almost instantaneous the way her small body focused itself, moving slightly until Claire’s nipple was in her mouth, skin to skin as the baby latched.

Claire gasped, sensation taking her by surprise before she let a laugh slide past her lips, humour settling across her body as her shoulders shook with mirth and wonder. She could feel the strong pull of Maisie’s suckle and the slide of formula past her skin as the tube filled.

Maisie started to kick her legs, little limbs moving against Claire’s belly. Her movements were joyous, little legs unable to help themselves as she kicked with excitement. ‘Is that better, little one?’ Claire cooed, her hand rubbing across Maisie’s back as the girl settled a hand on top of her breast. ‘Thank you.’ Claire whispered after a few minutes of silence, nothing but the sound of Maisie suckling filling the air between them.

Owen shrugged. It was nothing. He just wanted things to be more natural for the two women in front of him. He wasn’t able to take his eyes off her, more content than he had seen her in a long time. She looked so at ease with that baby at her chest, her hand alternating between rubbing and patting her back.

‘I, ah, I got something else.’ The embarrassment was back, showing itself in his downward cast eyes and unsure speech. She raised eager eyes, watching him turn back to the brown paper bag. He pulled out a 14inch dusty rose coloured rabbit. ‘I … I couldn’t help it.’

‘Oh, Owen.’ She sighed, smile climbing across her face. He was cracking, heart swayed towards Maisie. The rabbit showed it, Owen thinking about something other than necessity. ‘It’s so sweet.’ Deep dimples pressed themselves into her cheeks, Claire taking a hand from Maisie’s back to reach for the plush toy. Owen handed it over, confidence returning as he grinned. He wasn’t sure if he should tell her about the baby headbands with sweet little bows that also sat in the bag. They were another impulse buy he couldn’t help himself from making as the store clerk made him feel giddy about the little girl. ‘It’s bigger than she is!’ Claire exclaimed, bunny in her hand now, longer than the girl she held. It had been a big selling point for him, something that was bigger than the girl that would eventually get smaller as she grew.

He would never admit to thinking about her growing bigger, Owen there to watch it happen. He promised to take her to Karen and then step out of her space, but the more time he spent with her, the harder Owen was finding it to let go. She was sweet with Maisie, endearing, pulling at all the primal strings in his heart telling him to stay.

[…]

Owen drove for as long as he could bear. They stopped and started, tending to the baby’s needs. Changing diapers and asking service station attendants if they could warm a bottle. They made it all the way to Salt Lake City, Utah on their first day. Owen and Claire had swapped drivers at some point, his eyes burning against the stretch of road and their never-ending feat to make it across the country. Eight hours in the car on and off was enough, Owen finding a small hotel where they could sleep for the night and collect themselves.

It was their fourth day in the car since picking up Maisie from the basement lab at Lockwood Manor. His hands were aching from their grip on the steering wheel as they clasped a sandwich instead of the hard plastic. He was still blinking his eyes against the pavement of the truck stop, sitting on a picnic table in the grass somewhere between Utah and the middle of Wyoming. He had been there before. The place remodelled but still reminiscent of his youth as Owen tried to forgo the impulse to look over his shoulder every time he heard a new voice.

He was acting paranoid. Scared some member of his family would remember what he looked like after all these years and would approach the man while he was trying to eat his lunch. He pushed them out of his head. There was nothing he could do if someone called  _‘Owen’_  and flagged him down but smile politely and work his way through the excuses.

His eyes focused on Claire not for the first time as she sat on the picnic bench, her back against the table, legs stretched out in front of her as she held the baby expertly in the crook of her arm SNS set up without his help. She was trying to convince him there was an art to it now, sweetly proud of herself. The more she learned about baby wrangling, the more his heart clenched.

Owen kept telling himself that he was going to drop them off in Madison, turn the car around and return to his cabin in the woods. This was Claire’s decision. If she wanted to keep the baby, he would support her in choice alone. They weren’t together before this, and when they were, it was too messy for a baby. He wanted to do the right thing. There was no use in telling her he would stick around only to find himself with the itch to leave in a few months or a year. She was better off starting her new life without him, and he was more than happy to get her to someone who could help.

Her hair was down, pulled over one shoulder as the breeze tried to pick it up and dance it through the warm light. Maisie had raised a hand, fist holding onto the brim of a powder blue bucket hat he had purchased to shield her eyes, the fabric covered in small daisies. He couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed, the brim of the hat doing its job as Owen watched the motion of her jaw around Claire’s breast, worried that he was likely staring too much. She grizzled, making small sounds as Claire stroked her hand over the baby’s belly, cooing right back at the girl. Maisie was eating better, now downing the recommended amounts for her age, or so Claire had gathered from the pages of baby books she was collecting. She spent her time reading while he drove, buried in the pages of mom advice and taking on as much of it as she could.

Nevertheless, she was quickly becoming a natural, Owen watching her with complete awe as she focused all of her energy on the baby she held, her lunch sitting uneaten by her shoulder. He wouldn’t pack them up and send them to the car until she had finished her lunch. Claire had tried to pull that on him yesterday, suggesting that she could eat while they drove. That hadn’t been the point. She needed to stretch her legs and eat like an average person for thirty minutes before they got back onto the asphalt again.

He couldn’t stop staring at her, staring at the baby, admiration tugging in his chest as he tried to push it away. He saw flashes of domesticity in his mind's eye, perfect little moments with Claire and this baby that could be so easy to achieve if he just  _tried_. That was all she had asked; that they work to support this little girl. It was haunting him, even in their presence, he feared what would happen once they reached Madison.

So far, Claire had jumped right in which surprised him. Three years ago and this woman would have lept out of her skin if you so much as suggested she held a baby. Here she was, feeding a child they kidnapped and cooing at her like it was the most natural thing for her to be doing. She looked beautiful, was beautiful all the time and in so many different ways. Sitting in that warm light, she had him captivated, Owen’s heart beating only for her.

‘What?’ She asked, eyes on him, shy smile pushing a blush across her cheeks.

Owen shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ Just admiring the view.

For a second, he almost felt persuaded to stay with her once they reached Wisconsin. It would be so  _easy_  to take up this life with her. Effortless like a deep inhale before he pushed himself under the waves.

With Maisie’s belly full, the girl no longer suckling at the now empty pouch. Claire detangled herself. Clipping her bra and readjusting her shirt before she stood. She stepped towards a blanket they had laid out on the grass and put the baby down. Maisie kicked her legs and shook her arms as the clouds moved above her head. If they were anyone else, she would have been in a typical park with toys scattered around her and a warm home to go to afterwards. But, that wasn’t who they were. Instead, she was a baby living on the run, and sometimes Owen asked himself if she would have chosen this for herself had they given her a choice.

[…]

‘I was reading …’ He felt like every sentence started like that in the last two days. She had stockpiled on a list of parenting books, things that would hopefully fill the spaces in her knowledge and share with her what was expected of Maisie’s development. She took to reading in the car when she wasn’t sleeping or taking a shift at the wheel. With every turn of the page, Claire learnt something new, tucking that information away in her brain where she could access it later.

It had been her excuse when Owen walked into their motel room to find her stripping down to her underwear, hips swaying as she cooed at the baby on the bed in front of her. ‘I was reading,’ she started again, distracted as she picked up the girl. ‘That skin-on-skin contact is vital to an infant’s development. Of course, she’s a little older … I thought it might be good.’ She stopped, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, embarrassed as she stood in front of him in her underwear. ‘No one held her,’ Claire’s voice wavered. ‘I just want to give her that’.

He stood in front of her, heartstrings pulling. Claire didn’t need to explain herself to him, not for anything and especially not for the baby she was trying so desperately to love. He shrugged, putting their dinner down on the small table. He knew things about animals, dolphins and velociraptors. Humans were not too different, the bond between mother and child just as strong. He could understand her reasons, could relate. Owen knew more than Claire in regards to what was buried in the depths of Maisie’s file. He too wanted to wrap that girl in a blanket and never put her down if it meant she would know love. He just didn’t consider himself brave enough to dive in deep.

‘I think that’s a great idea.’ He gave her an encouraging smile, watching Claire rock the baby with a particular swing in her hips, the movement playful and comfortable with the grizzling girl who was starting to grow on their hearts.

Claire grinned back, smile beaming as the corners of her mouth pushed deep into her cheeks encouraging her dimples to shine. ‘We’re going to take a nice warm bath!’ She told him, face turning towards the baby halfway through her sentence as her pitched turned into a coo. He was growing fond of that sound, the way she talked to the baby like the change in her pitch and softness of her words would make the girl understand her.  

The bath had already been drawn, Owen offering to help as Claire shook her head promising she had it under control. There was a skip in her step as he unashamedly watched her ass disappear into the bathroom. She left the door open, Owen listening to the sounds of Maisie’s grizzles grow into cries before they quietened altogether.

The room was quiet, nothing beyond the sounds of water moving and the soft hum of Claire’s voice. He couldn’t tell what she was singing or if she was singing at all. Owen smiled, letting the warmth flow over him as he ruffled through the nappy bag Claire had stocked full of clothes and necessities for Maisie. He pulled out a fresh change of clothes for Maisie, setting something out for Claire too before he turned to the dinner he had brought and the bottles of beers that came with it.

He left the food, taking the beers in hand as he stepped towards the open bathroom door.

Claire was in the bathtub, right where she said she would be, Maisie on her chest. ‘All good?’ He asked, handing her the bottle as Claire’s hand lifted from the water, dripping lavender over the baby’s back. She nodded, giving him a small smile as she thanked him for the beer. ‘Can I keep you two company?’ He wanted to be near them. After days in the car, spending hours together on end, he didn’t like the thought of being away for long periods of time. Going out and fetching dinner was enough for one day.

Claire nodded, taking a swig of her drink as he sat, back pressed against the edge of the bathtub. Maisie grizzled between them, making noises with her fist pressed to her mouth. They didn’t talk, just drank their beers until Owen heard Claire’s clink against the edge of the bath. The water moved behind him. He half purred, relaxing into a long forgotten touch when she slid her wet fingers up the nape of his neck, nails softly scratching.

‘Owen?’ She asked, voice quiet, testing his ears. He hummed, still awake as his head tilted back into her touch. ‘I want to keep her.’

‘I know you do.’ That’s why they were driving across the country with no cell phones trying to reach her sister's house in the hopes of laying low. Ken Wheatley had left him for dead on the island, hitting Owen with a dinosaur intended tranquilliser that knocked him down faster than he could react. When they were caught at Lockwood Manor Wheatley and Mills conspired to leave them for dead a second time, claiming that no one knew they made it off the island and they were left to dispose of them however they pleased. Owen didn’t want to expose her to that kind of danger, not now that they had a baby … one they stole from Lockwood Manor itself.

She shook her head, Owen hearing the movement more than seeing it. ‘I  _need_  to keep her.’ He couldn’t disagree, even inexperienced Claire was a better mother for this baby than what she had before them. Yet in four days he could argue they had done more good than not.

‘Mhm _,_ ’ He hummed, caught in the feel of her touch, his eyes closing against her hand as he contemplated the ins and outs of falling asleep right there. He was too old for bathroom floors, and the bath would eventually run cold, Claire and the baby looking to get out. Claire’s statement was of no surprise to him. He could see how much she  _needed_  that girl in the way she clung to her, compensating for something in her past he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She was giving it her all, he had noted on several occasions. Doing the best she could and learning to be better for the long haul. A week ago he would never have thought this would be happening.

Her fingers clenched in his hair, collecting herself as she pushed her next sentence between her teeth. ‘I can’t get pregnant.’ Her voice was dry, barely there as she dared to whisper the things she needed to tell him. His body went still, rigid against the hard flooring as a want to climb into the bath surged in his limbs. He held back, knowing how much she hated pity. ‘I just didn’t realise how much I actually wanted this until I was told that I couldn’t have it.’ He heard the catch in her throat, hidden behind the sound of the water moving, Claire’s other hand stroking lines across Maisie’s small back. His mouth opened, closed, unsure of what to say. Claire and kids had always been an interesting topic, her interest ebbing in and out like the tides. They never had time for it, were never serious enough for a proper conversation. This was new information and something, he gathered, that was new for her too. ‘I, ah, I’ve known for a little while,’ Claire confessed, voice still cracking. It had been sometime after he left while she was still sitting with open wounds that the pain became enough to seek help.

Silence fell between them. Owen didn’t know what to say to make things better. There was nothing he could do for her but wish the clock could be wound back. She didn’t expand on her situation any further, her breath shaky behind him as she tried to keep herself calm.

He was mad at the universe for doing this to her. She should have had a choice, available to her whenever she pleased not cut short just when she was starting to make up her mind. His fingers tightened their grip on the bottle. He wanted to give it to her. A baby. A family. Seeing her with Maisie was enough to provide a thousand visuals of Claire as a mother. She could do it and outshine those around her. He had just wished she was confident sooner, sure of herself and her position in life. And was upset with himself for not helping her realise it.

Owen felt like he was bleeding with her, wounded and damaged by the news. His life in shatters right beside hers. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to be a father, but just like Claire, he wanted to option available to him. There wouldn’t be any other woman he would prefer.

‘She was sitting right  _there._ ’ Maisie. Claire’s voice croaked, wet and strained. He knew if he turned his head he would see she had been crying, he had already head her sniffles, but Owen was giving her privacy in her emotions. She had only opened up because his back was to her and to keep talking she needed the same space. Claire’s fingers curled in his hair again, briefly clutching at the strands before her nails slid up his scalp. ‘And I thought, it would be so easy to just pick her up and make her mine.’ It hadn’t been easy, and they both knew it, but Claire had no regrets about the things she had done.

‘She’s all yours,’ Owen told her on a whisper, his throat tight. ‘We do probably need to sit down and talk about your desire to kidnap babies though.’ He laughed, trying for a joke as he turned his head to see Claire’s pink cheeks damp with tears, a smile pushing through as she rolled her eyes. ‘But, seriously, Claire, no one and nothing is getting between the two of you. I promise.’ Just like that, he committed himself to her. Sitting in a dimly lit bathroom, his back against the tub, her hand still in his hair, while her other hand held the baby she was trying her best to mother. Nothing was going to separate them. Not if he had anything to say about it first.

Her hand in his hair tightened, fist coiling around brown strands until he turned his head to meet her watery eyes once again. It was green bleeding into green, asking where the other had been for so long until she sat forward in the bath, gaze breaking for a second to check on the infant in her arms before she leant in and entwined her lips with his.

She couldn’t speak. There were no words to thank or describe this man as something higher than her protector. She didn’t need that. But, in his words it was how he felt, a guardian of some sort vowing to keep her safe and with her girl.

Their lips parted, noses still touching as Claire’s lashes fluttered open. Her smile was small, tongue bathing her bottom lip before she grazed her teeth over kiss plump lips. ‘Can I keep you too?’ She asked softly, scared as her eyes darted away from his face, missing the easy grin that slipped across his. She didn’t know that he had already come to that conclusion in his head.

Owen’s answer was a kiss, heavy and warm, filled with promises as he tried to fix her with just a touch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen, Claire and Maisie are only a short drive from Madison now as things start to sink it. Before they know it, they’ll be facing Claire’s sister with a plethora of new experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to @lightwillalwaysbreakthedark who asked for the laundromat and Maisie’s tiny clothes. Someone asked for More Owen/Mais bonding after the last chapter. So, it’s in there too. 
> 
> I’m not sure this chapter is 100% ready to be posted but I felt bad for playing video games instead of writing all week.

 

All he knows is that Maisie starts sleeping better, and so does Claire.

She still woke in the night. That was expected. But, it was no longer with a startled cry and complete hysterics. He didn’t know if it was the improved contact between Claire and Maisie or if it had something to do with the doc-a-tot that had taken up a large portion of the bed no matter the motel they were staying in. Maisie had migrated from a bassinet elsewhere in the room, to sleeping right beside Claire in a move Owen didn’t protest.

He was going to be the last person to step between her and the girl. They were happy, sleeping, nightmare-less and had learned to cry for the encouragement of a feed. It had surprised him, how close they grew in five days with Claire wholly absorbed in the task at hand. She was making decisions based on Maisie’s welfare without hesitation, choosing what she personally felt was best for the girl. From what he could see, she was doing no wrong. Although, Owen would have liked to share a bed with her without an infant present.  

While they drove, Claire alternated between the back seat and the passenger, changing it up between pitstops depending on how well Maisie was travelling. For the most part, the baby slept, making no noise beyond the suck of her pacifier as the adults drove, alternating between truck stop CDs as they avoided the radio. They weren’t too sure whether or not they wanted to hear about what had happened at Lockwood Manor. Their bodies and minds not yet far enough away to deal with it again. 

She was sitting beside him in the passenger chair while they moved across the highway stretching between Nebraska and their next stop. It was just like any other day in the car, the weather warmer than usual leaving Claire to opt to wear a simple wrap dress they had picked up somewhere along the way. There was no one else on the road but them, Claire’s feet up on the dash and a book in her lap. Owen kept stealing glances in her direction, catching the ends of her ponytail dance as fresh air slipped through the windows. She was wearing a pair of glasses that were apparently not right for her but were her only option in an empty highway truck stop. They were oversized, too big for her face but ridiculously sweet as she wore them with a scowl.

‘What’re you reading?’ He asked, already knowing part of the answer. A baby book. She had a whole stack at her feet, the pile growing alarmingly in the last few days. In all the time he knew Claire, she was nothing but thorough with her research no matter the topic. He couldn’t exactly blame her for this.

‘Did you know, with consistent stimulation, the female body can induce lactation. You don’t have to be pregnant or recently given birth.’ She told him, making the man cough as he took his eyes off the road to stare at her. He should have seen this conversation coming. Should have asked the shop clerk about it when she sold him the SNS. It was his fault. He started the breastfeeding fantasy, fed it and now he would have to continue entertaining it.

Owen coughed a second time, clearing his throat as she rolled her eyes. ‘You, ah, need some help with that?’ He winked, a cocky smile growing across his cheeks. His hand wandered of its own nature, finding the bare skin of her warm thigh and squeezing. They hadn’t had sex in well over a year, but he had seen her naked a handful of times in the last few days. Unfortunately for Owen, he was a man and the close proximity to the woman he found attractive was starting to get to him. For once, she was talking about her body without holding the baby … even though it was  _about_  the baby. Maybe there were some cons to this instant parent thing. He  _wanted_  her. There was no doubt about that but he didn't know where they stood. 

She shook her head, no nonsense. Claire left his hand on her thigh, not bothering to remove his warm and heavy touch as she replied, ‘I’ll just buy a breast pump’. He had the gall to look offended, flashing her wide and wounded eyes, bottom lip rolling into a pout.

‘You sure?’ He asked. ‘I can pull over right now. The kid’s sleepin’, won’t even notice what we’re up to.’ He looked in the rearview mirror, catching the car seat mirror they had set up at Maisie’s feet to peer into her capsule. ‘Fast asleep.’ He raised a brow at Claire, winking at her as she dropped a hand to his in her lap before sliding her fingers up his wrist. She wasn’t telling him to back off or pushing him away, so Owen kept his hand where it was, fingers drawing small circles across her skin. They used to spent so much time in the car like that, Claire's bare legs and Owen’s wide hand. Despite everything. It felt normal. He flicked his eyes towards the rearview mirror once again, checking in on Maisie’s sleeping face, her cheeks heavy and her head tilted. He wanted Claire, more than anything to agree, breathlessly telling him to pull over so he could release some of the tension that had been sitting in the pit of his stomach for days. 

It was a trauma-induced response. The last time they had faced an island full of escaped dinosaurs they had spent weeks fucking the whole ordeal out of their system. This time was going to be a little different. Especially with the baby in tow. 

Claire said nothing, just returned her gaze back to the pages of her book as her attention slipped from him altogether. 

[…]

They found a laundromat across the road from their motel and chose to use it. Maisie was running out of fresh clothes, and so were the adults. They grabbed sandwiches from a cafe up the street and settled themselves into the washing, dropping quarters into the machine like it was nobody’s business before sitting themselves at an old table with plastic chairs.

‘How’re you so good at that?’ Claire asked eyes narrowed towards Owen. He was holding Maisie in the crook of one arm while his other hand held his half unwrapped Rueben, Owen taking bites gleefully.

He shrugged, ‘My brother had a kid before I left home. I don’t know. I’m just used to it.’ Zach was born when she was seventeen, and yet Claire had no recollection of that time. What she had now, with Maisie, she put down to instinct rather than a simple movement from years past. It certainly helped Owen that his arms were broad, wide enough to support Maisie’s back with no worry of her toppling over the edge.

‘You’ve never told me that.’ She tilted her head, smile small as the washers and dryers around them droned on. Owen raised a brow. ‘I never knew you had a nephew or an older brother.’ She knew he had a family, but Owen wasn’t one to talk about them. When they were together, they spent Christmas with Karen, Owen brushing off Claire’s questions as he insisted on making good of the holiday on the first anniversary of the Jurassic World incident.

‘I, ah, I don’t see them much.’ She had gathered that realisation already. ‘Cody would be around Zach’s age now. We were really close. Was probably weird that a seventeen-year-old kid was more than happy to spend every second with his baby nephew. But, ah, yeah.’

‘What happened?’ Claire asked, fingers playing with the edges of the wax paper her sandwich came in.

Owen shook his head, ‘I don’t really want to talk about it’. She never counted Owen as the mysterious type. Usually, he was an open book … one written in another language that needed to be deciphered from time to time. But, he wasn’t mysterious or secretive. They were going to have to talk about it eventually.

The machine beeped, drawing Owen from his seat. He transferred Maisie into Claire’s arms as he passed her chair, stopping to ensure the baby was settled before he walked away. Maisie grunted, body coiling inwards momentarily at the change of arms before she relaxed. She smacked her lips with a sigh too big for her body before she decided against crying about it.

'Fresh from the dryer,’ announced Owen, draping one of Maisie’s blankets over Claire's shoulder. The fabric was warm, hot almost as Claire took a corner and wrapped it around the baby’s back enclosing them both in the lilac warmth. He watched them for a second, Claire’s back to him as he felt his chest warm like he was involved in that embrace.

There had been something about clothing fresh from the dryer, blankets too, and the genuine warmth they provided. Owen didn’t think when he pulled out Maisie’s blanket, walking it towards them like he was another person altogether. It was entirely too domestic for Owen Grady, but there it was, etched into his bones with a fond memory. His mother used to do the same thing when he was a boy, rugging Owen and his siblings up in soothing blankets before they settled into bed.

He and Claire had been on the road for several days now, learning Maisie’s rhythm with each new step. They had moved themselves into child rearing, as domestic as it could get. He didn’t think he was capable of that and yet the knowledge was there. It was his mother, in the back of his head, reminding him how to do the small things that brought him joy. If they started there where could they go wrong?

With a borrowed basket, Owen returned to the table, clothing radiating heat as he set about folding them. ‘I still can’t wrap my head around how small these are.’ Owen laughed as he struggled to fold a onesie. Claire hummed, the noise drawing his eye as he found her, head tilted to the side, eyes closed. ‘Do you want me to take you back to the motel?’ He asked, their place for the night across the road. Her eyes snapped open, Claire shaking her head as she yawned.

What she needed was sleep. ‘No, I’m helping.’ She wasn’t, not with Maisie in her arms. Owen didn’t say anything, just nodded as he put the onesie aside. It took a minute before Claire stood, bending in the middle with a tight hand on Maisie’s back as she lifted her car seat up and onto the chair she had been using. She settled Maisie into her capsule, freeing her hands so she could help Owen.

Maisie grizzled, small body moving in the car seat, trying to reacquaint herself with the space. It took her less than a minute to decide the cushioning of the chair was not was not the same as being held. She protested, face turning pink as her mouth wobbled out a cry. Claire stopped folding clothes to rock the baby, trying to soothe her without picking her up.

‘Sit down, hold the baby.’ Owen laughed. It was hard to hear her cry, something in his chest tugging with a want to step around Claire and pick Maisie up himself. She did as he suggested, thankful sag in her shoulders as she rocked Maisie until her cries stopped. ‘You sure you don’t want to go back to the room.’ He asked, folding one of his shirts as Claire rocked towards him.

‘I’m helping,’ she insisted.

Owen shook his head, ‘You’re watching. I rather you were sleeping than sitting here exhausted.’ Claire denied his wants, she was happy there with him by her side regardless of how tired she felt.

They weren’t alone in the laundromat, a woman was sitting in the back corner, reading a book while her clothes spun through the washer. She had turned up a little after they did, smiled sweetly in their direction and left Owen and Claire to their own business. They had forgotten that she was there altogether until she approached their table, her clean clothes in a basket on her hip. ‘You three are the cutest little family I have ever seen.’ She spoke, voice soft and smooth, careful not to startle the baby whose mother had just managed to quieten. ‘I hope you don't mind my interruption.’ Owen shook his head, watching Claire to ensure she was comfortable before he smiled at the woman warmly. ‘Have you tried wearing her?’ She asked, eyes on Claire.

‘Wearing her?’

The older woman grinned, wearing braids that were going grey. ‘Do you have a muslin wrap?’ Owen fished one out of the basket. ‘I’m Georgia,’ she introduced while asking Claire to hand Maisie to her ‘ _daddy_ ’. Georgia wrapped the fabric around her middle and over Claire’s shoulders. Owen watched intensely, trying to learn as he rocked Maisie, his hand rhythmically patting her rump. ‘You gotta keep ‘em close when they’re this little. Too precious to miss a second.’ The woman grinned, lifting her eyes to Claire’s as she paused in her movements and instruction. ‘But, that doesn’t mean you can’t have your hands.’ Their polite helper turned to Owen, asking softly if she could hold the baby. Owen’s eyes met Claire’s, checking for an okay as he nodded, loosening his grip on Maisie. ‘Oh, she’s a little one.’ Georgia remarked, bouncing Maisie as she shushed the girl’s disgruntled noises. ‘You got to feed this one up, Mama. You too, Pops.’ She poked a finger towards him with a look that rivalled his mother.

‘Workin’ on it, Ma’am.’ Owen nodded. It was hard while they were on the road, their options for meals lacked in nutrition and variety. He used to  _live_  for feeding Claire now he had to find a way to channel that energy into formula drinking Maisie.

Georgia showed Claire how to hold Maisie, easing the baby into the sling they made feet first. Maisie grizzled when they secured her. The sound only lasted a second before she turned her head and closed her eyes. Flush against Claire and warm from her body heat, Maisie couldn’t complain. ‘And now look, you got both hands free.’ Georgia stepped back, expression fond as she watched Claire run her hands over Maisie’s supported back.  

‘Thank you so much for your kindness.’ He could hear it in her voice, how out of her depth Claire was, but with every new piece of information, she was learning. This was one step, something that saved her aching arms from holding the baby all day.

The older woman retrieved her washing basket, ‘It was no problem, sweetness. Y’all needed the hand. You treasure that girl, now okay?’ She stroked Maisie’s cheek before she walked away from them, her hand patting Owen’s chest as she left.

‘Now I can help with the laundry.’ Claire grinned, raising both hands and waving them, proud of herself and the new revelation.

‘Would prefer you taking a nap.’ He winked at her, knowing she wasn’t going to do what was best. Claire shrugged, hand falling to Maisie's back as the fingers of her other hand reached for him. She pulled Owen towards her, careful not to crush the baby. Claire leant in, lips meeting his bearded cheek despite the scratch. ‘She looks so snug in there,’ he commented, large fingers pulling at the fabric of the wrap. Maisie’s eyes were closed, girl sleeping peacefully. This, for the two of them, was revolutionary. But, only if they managed to replicate it.

It was as simple as a stranger helping to free her hands, but suddenly Claire had a spring in her step. ‘We’ll nap later.’ It was a compromise made at 4pm, but it was something as she pet his shoulder reassuringly. Owen was happy for the company. Standing beside him, Claire struggled just as he had to fold the tiny baby clothes, her shoulder brushing his as they struggled together. 

'Why are they so small,' he groaned for a second time, fiddling with the onesie in his hand until he threw it into the basket of folded clothes without doing anything to it. 

[...]

They were stopped in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, an approximate three hours from Madison. Owen could have kept pushing through the drive, but they would only have found themselves on Karen’s doorstep in the middle of the night. Maisie needed out of the car seat, missing the contact of other human beings.

The clean laundry was folded away back into their bags, sectioned between his and hers while Maisie’s had their own. Surprisingly they had accumulated a lot in the last six days as Owen looked sheepish about the lures of boutique baby stores. He was an addict unable to admit to his sins. Claire just smiled, endeared by his want to spend and spoil.

‘You’re staying, right?’ Claire asked, hand sitting on Maisie’s chest as she rubbed fluid circles across her small torso. Her back was to Owen with her focus on the baby. It was a strategy in strength, asking him a question without needing to suffer through the answer. Owen hummed a question of his own at the end of the sound. ‘When we get to Karen’s tomorrow, you’re staying, yeah?’

Owen didn’t make a sound. It was his silence that caused Claire to turn, hand leaving the stomach of the sleeping baby as she faced him. ‘Claire,’ he sighed her name. ‘I said you could keep me, I meant it.’ He wasn’t about making promises in bathrooms without keeping them. Claire needed him, even when she didn’t, and there was something magical happening here he wanted to be a part of.

‘I just, how are we doing this?’ He raised a brow, confused. ‘Are we raising a baby, end of conversation … or are we together?’ Her words trailed off with her eyes, fingers picking at her nails as she took a step towards the motel bed.

Owen shrugged, ‘What do you want?’ She was the one who picked Maisie up and ran with her, holding that girl in her lap as he sped away from Lockwood Manor. It took him a few days, but when she asked him to stay, Owen knew what he wanted from that. He wouldn’t push his ideas on her. This was Claire’s life, and he was just lucky to have any part in it.

'I miss you,’ she admitted shamefully, eyes raising to catch his response.

He shifted on the bed, sitting up straighter, his legs stretched out in front of him as his hand hit the mattress. ‘C’mere,’ Owen beckoned with the tilt of his head, grin bursting across his cheeks at the small shiver that wrung itself out in her wrists. She knew what he meant, without all the words. Claire recognised the tone of his voice, deep and smooth, licking its way up her spine. She rounded the bed and climbed into his lap directly. ‘I missed you too.’ His hands ghosted over her arms until they reached Claire’s cheeks.

His touch was gentle, barely there, memories weaving in and around them as their faces drew closer. He could have just kissed her, leant in and pecked his lips to hers. Instead, they breathed each other in, his fingers hovering over her skin as hers wrapped around his wrist.

They were risking everything to try this again.  

Owen kissed her cheek first, the side of her jaw, and her throat before his lips met hers. Claire whimpered, needy little sound escaping her notice as their bodies melted against the other. His hands shifted from gentle to rough, impatient as they pulled at the buttons of her shirt. Her fingers wound their way through his hair as the warmth of Owen’s mouth found access to the top of her breast.

His shirt came off, Claire’s fingers deep in his sides and seeking out skin to bury themselves in.

They didn’t have a chance to get carried away before Maisie, asleep in her car seat, woke up. Claire hesitated, teeth in her lip, mind questioning whether they could ignore the sound. ‘We have to stop.’ Her hand moved, sitting firm against his chest as his touch lingered, Owen not ready to draw his lips away from her skin.

He nodded, pulling away. ‘Why don’t you go have a shower.’ Claire had been talking about taking a shower all day; this was going to be her only opportunity before Maisie decided she needed them for the rest of the night. ‘I’ve got Maisie.’ He told her, Claire pulling away from his lap, mind torn between scooping the girl up and retreating to the warmth of the bathroom. He gave her a reassuring smile, full and bright; promising things would be fine.

He had been alone with Maisie before. Had taken the little girl for a drive while Claire slept. It had been easier then, Maisie in her car seat was quiet. Now, something was wrong, and he was the last person left to fix it.

Owen approached Maisie’s car seat, eyes watching the ajar door of the bathroom, Claire on the other side. ‘Hey,’ his voice was low, soft and comforting. ‘It’s okay.’ He crouched in front of Maisie, reaching into her capsule and pulling her out as he soothed her. She settled in his arms easily, tiny body fitting into the crook of her neck. ‘Did you wake up with a fright?’ He cooed, back to the bathroom door as he paced the room, rocking with his gait. ‘We’re not in the car, hey? Just another motel. Last one, I promise.’ The baby grizzled, stretching her arm in a move he saw as a protest. ‘I know, Mama will be out in a minute.’ He promised, shuffling through their nappy bag with one hand as he started pulling out one of Maisie’s pre-made bottles from their last stop. ‘We can at least try to do this, can’t we?’ He asked the baby, shaking the bottle in front of her blinking eyes as he shuffled towards the microwave in the kitchenette.  

He waited for the machine to beep with eyes on the baby in his arms. She was probably the smallest thing he had ever held. The palm of his hand was capable of covering her whole body, dwarfing the girl in his touch. Sometimes, Owen looked at Maisie and couldn’t fathom that he was holding her. She was little and light; it wasn't until she moved that he remembered she was real. He could break her. It scared him when he forgot she was there. Owen worried he might drop her one day as his memory faltered, the girl unnoticeable in his arms.

Ultimately, Owen was unsure about this venture. What on Earth were they doing with a nine-week-old baby? Claire had taken to it like a duck to water, proudly adjusting the crown on her head that read ‘mother,’, and he felt honoured to witness it. But, they had a lack of knowledge, the both of them living off experiences from more than a decade ago as they fumbled through keeping this baby alive. He couldn't call it parenting; they hadn’t done any of that yet. They just watched her sleep, held her and fed her.

He knew, without a doubt, now that Maisie was in their care that he wouldn’t let a single thing trouble her. Owen had read the file left sitting in Maisie’s room, located in the basement levels of Lockwood Manor. ‘The Subject’ they had called her in field notes littered across scraps of paper. She was too young to have provided anything useful for those people and hopefully too young to have been damaged by it. But, from what Owen had read she was nothing more than an experiment, a test that had been created over and over and over again until she was born — built. Maisie was grown in that lab, made in a test tube and incubated in a machine. His heart clenched. She was too small, too precious for that life. A fragile baby left to sit in a crib all day every day, untouched, unloved and force-fed. He couldn’t understand why someone would create her if they didn’t want to love her.

They didn’t matter now. Well, for the time being. Owen was worried about what would happen if Maisie was important enough to chase down. Would they find them? What would happen to Claire if they took Maisie away? She was undeniably connected and deeply in love. He hadn’t seen her care so much about anything. His heart had swayed to a story of hardship and neglect, finally driven home by the love Claire showed.

He didn’t know what compelled him to lift the girl higher in his arms, his nose coming into contact with the top of her head. It happened regardless, Owen inhaling the smell of her. Maisie was reminiscent of his youth, sugared cinnamon and warm summer days. It was easy to kiss her forehead, Maisie still protesting her hunger.

‘We’ve got you, mini.’ He told her, another kiss pressed to her small head as Maisie’s protests settled. The machine beeped, allowing Owen to retrieve Maisie’s bottle. ‘Lets give this another go, hey?' He rocked her towards the bed, settling against the mattress. He knew she didn't like it; six days were spent trying to encourage Maisie to take a bottle. She toyed with it initially, until the SNS was brought into play. Now, Maisie wanted nothing but Claire. 'I know it's not Claire,’ he told her with a sigh. 'But we can make it work, can’t we? Cut her a break?’ Maisie turned her head away from the offered bottle. She grizzled, arms flying, as the hand that held her, rubbed her, side. ‘Okay, okay, I get it. Settle down.’ He shushed her, removing the offensive bottle from her line of sight and picking up her toy rabbit. Owen tickled Maisie’s felly with the nose of the bunny, the baby non-responsive as she looked at it. ‘Why would you want anything other than a good boob?’ To his amusement, Maisie grinned, small cheeks pushing up towards her eyes as she opened her toothless mouth. Owen laughed, ‘you’re a breast girl, hey? Respectable.’ Maisie grinned again, gurgling in the back of her throat, her answer to a laugh. ‘And, I mean, Claire's great. Why wouldn’t you want those? I'm jealous, really.’ Owen continued to conversationally coo, heart swelling at the tug of Maisie's small smile.

In the bathroom doorway, Claire cleared her throat. Owen’s head snapped up, an embarrassed flush creeping across his cheeks. ‘What are you two talking about?’ The grin that climbed her face told Owen she already knew the answer.

He shrugged, ‘the usual. Breast is best. Bottles are made of plastic and chemicals. Praying that she likes the sound of my voice and not that she’s sitting here quietly holding back a deafening scream.

Claire rolled her eyes. 'I mean, if she feels that her love for my breasts are threatened, maybe she’ll cry anyway.’ She winked, creeping towards the bed in sleep shorts and a button-down that undeniably belonged to him. Despite having few possessions on this road trip, Claire had no qualms with pinching a shirt or two.

‘I’m just offended she finds you more useful than me.’ He certainly wanted to get to know the baby better. She was an infant; there wasn’t much else to know. But, Owen wanted to hold her and feel like she trusted him to keep her safe. They were getting there but it was hard when she visibly favoured Claire. It didn’t help that she was a baby hog.

She smelt like vanilla when she settled beside him, shoulder to shoulder, reaching for the baby. Maisie's mood changed, still impatient but excited as she realised what the change in hands meant. They had only had the SNS a few days, but already Claire was getting the hang of it, Owen there to make guided suggestions, but didn’t need to interfere. Within a minute, Maisie was settled, her weight relaxed in Claire’s arms, a small hand sitting on the top of her bare breast as she grunted against her skin. It took nothing from Owen to lean into Claire’s side, his head on her shoulder, his hand gentle on the back of Maisie’s head. Not once had she pushed him away or asked for privacy in those moments, instead, she kept him close, something playing out in her head.

He shuffled down the bed after a minute until his head found her lap and his arm stretched over her legs. The drive had exhausted him, the last several days stacking on top of each other now that they were so close to the finish line. Above his head, Maisie suckled loudly, guzzling down the exact same formula he had warmed for her minutes earlier, now delivering itself into her stomach in a different — and more preferred — method. He couldn’t blame her. If given the option himself Owen would have made the same decision.

‘She sounds like a puppy,’ Owen made comment, his voice thick with the sleep he wanted. His parents had been occasional dog breeders. Their two female German Shepards had a litter every year or so when Owen was a boy, leaving him with a field of puppies. He had loved the first few days, where the animals were new and wholly dependant on their mother. They lined up in little rows, some even crawling on top of their brothers to reach a nipple they didn’t have to fight for. In their rows, they would whine and whimper, suckle and slurp, grunt and groan, a constant stream of the sound of babies trying to fill their bellies.

Maisie was no different, grizzling above his head, her feet moving against his hair.

‘Our baby is not a dog,’ Claire gasped, her shock playful as her hand found his hair. Fingers laced themselves between the strands desperate for a cut, his bread covered cheek rubbing against her bare skin in response.    

He closed his eyes, filling himself with the warmth of her touch as he replied. ‘Not a dog, just a puppy. Listen to her.’

Claire did, the room falling quiet, turning itself into an auditorium for Maisie’s feeding noises. She watched the baby eat, eyelids fluttering, mouth moving against her skin. On her chest, Maisie’s tiny hand sat with her fingers curled inwards. She relaxed her grip, almost kneading Claire with a dimpled hand, nails so soft they bent with every touch and fingers unbelievably small.

‘She looks like you,’ Claire admitted. Her voice was drawn off and dreamy. There was no doubt that she was in this deeper than he was, as she watched the small profile at her breast. ‘She’s got this mop of dark hair, so that’s all you. No red in sight.’ Owen hummed, knowing she felt his smile against her skin. ‘Her chin …’ Claire's fingers left his hair, touch skating down his chin and following the shape of it. Past five days worth of beard, Claire was convinced Maisie had a similar structure.

Owen heard what was happening before he noticed it. ‘No one is going to question if she is ours or not.’ The fear was reasonable. The car trips were one thing, stoping in towns and cities where they knew no one. But, in the morning they would arrive in Madison and Karen’s life. Suddenly, their trip was still, and they would have to answer to someone. He knew Karen, if only for a brief while and she was bound to tear their game apart. They had to sell it.  

He sat, regretfully tearing his head from her lap to meet her green eyes. ‘Fuck what anyone thinks.’ The other issue. Claire’s insecurities. Judgment. No one knew their story but those they kept close to them. Strangers in grocery lines and coffee shops would keep their mouths closed. And, if they happened to open them to share a thought about the little girl who didn’t look like her parents, then fuck them. It’s not a lie that Maisie will be adopted. ‘Right, Puppy?’ He asked the baby, hand on the short strands of dark hair clinging to hope on her scalp. He leaned in, kissing her cheek all too close to Claire’s skin.

In protest of the nickname, Claire’s fingers yanked on his beard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first day in Wisconsin, in which Karen meets Maisie, overspends in her excitement and Owen + Claire find out what happened at Lockwood Manor after they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, 
> 
> I’m really not the kind to do this but when times are tough you gotta try, right? I had to take my cat to the vet this week and it’s looking like she might need to go back. Problem is, I scraped the bottom of the barrel paying for the first visit and my employers aren’t doing anything to get me more shifts. So, I have a ko-fi account set up where you can donate the cost of a coffee ($3) or more. That choice is up to you. (I will provide the link at the end of the fic). 
> 
> Anyway, I don’t think there were any specific requests for this chapter so here we have it!

They were approaching Karen’s door at 8:30am almost to the minute.

Claire could barely sit still that morning, fidgeting as she fed Maisie the second the girl cracked her eyes and made a sound. From there, she wanted to leave. Ready to get it all over with and face the unknown her sister would bring.

She knew, as well, that if they wanted to catch Karen before she left for work they would have to be there early. Or else, they faced turning up to Karen’s office or be left to the streets and shopping malls all afternoon. Claire, no matter the sleep she had the night before, was tired to her bones and was longing for the comfort and security that came with her sister’s home.

‘Do you want me to hold her?’ Owen asked, turning to Claire who was a step behind him and checking that she was alright to carry Maisie. Claire shook her head, holding Maisie with a hand behind her neck, little girl vertical against her chest, cheek slack against Claire’s shoulder. She smiled at him, eyes closed and blissful as her hand stroked the back of Maisie’s head.

Karen’s car was still sitting in the driveway, promising Claire her sister was home as Owen took to the last step on the porch and knocked on the door. They waited Owen throwing her a smile over his shoulder, brows raised.

‘ _Just a minute,_ ’ Karen’s voice called from inside the house, commotion following for a minute before she appeared, door open. ‘Owen,’ Her voice dropped, patient morning smile melting away for a minute. Claire saw the worry, instantly and the panic that slid across her sister’s eyes. Owen Grady was standing there, on her doorstep a little over a week after Claire announced she was heading back to Isla Nublar. The life in her voice fell, concern instant as Karen imagined why exactly he was standing there.

‘Hey Kare,’ She didn’t realise how far behind Owen she was standing, enough that her sister didn’t see her past the broad-shouldered man. Claire, took a step to the right, revealing herself as Karen melted, relief surging across her face as she reached for her little sister.

Claire stepped into Karen’s embrace, trying not to crush Maisie in the process as her sister squeezed tightly. ‘Why didn’t you-you have a baby.’ Karen changed mid-topic, ready to chastise her sister for not calling when her eyes settled on what she was holding. ‘When …? What …? How …?’ The eldest Dearing stepped back, a hand over her chest as her eyes darted between Claire and Owen. ‘I’m sorry.’ She stopped again, hand raised to her temple. ‘You did tell me you were going back to the island, right? And not, ‘hey Karen, I’m pregnant’?’ Their conversation was memorable for being one of a few arguments they had partaken in since the island incident that returned Claire to her family. ‘And that was a week ago, yes?’

They hadn’t thought this far ahead. Or, more likely, hadn’t discussed it between the two of them. Claire desperately wanted to lie to her sister. There was something there, pulling in the back of her head telling her to nod. But, Karen had been there when Claire cried on the phone about the possible end of her relationship with the one lifeline she thought she  _needed_  and again had been present when Claire returned from a doctors appointment that pronounced her unable to conceive. There wasn’t a lie they could tell. Not even adoption. Karen had to know the truth.

‘She’s not ours,’ Claire announced, forcing the words past a lump in her throat. ‘I mean, she wasn’t ours, but she’s ours now … not officially … we have to work that out … it’s, ah, it’s complicated.’ She was nervous in front of her sister, beyond their mother Karen was Claire’s first problem solver. She called bullshit on every hesitant excuse and whittled it down until it had a solution. This was going to be no different, Claire just knew they had a lot of whittling to get through, and it wasn’t always going to fall away quickly.

Karen blinked, staring at her sister for a moment before she stepped back towards the door. ‘Why don’t we go sit down?’ She offered, leading them inside and closing the door behind them. ‘What happened with the island?’ Karen wanted to talk about the baby Claire was readjusting in her arms, Owen watching her with care, ready to leap up and assist as they settled in the living room. She needed to know about the island first. There had been a few things on the news in the past few days, but she knew to trust those who had been there over the media. ‘Were you at Lockwood? Do you know what happened there?’

She didn’t question the fact that Owen was present. Karen knew if he was there it had meant Claire reached out, before or after the events. ‘We went,’ Owen answered, ‘to the island’. His words were hollow, not quite filling themselves with emotion as he tried to avoid the details. ‘I don’t know what happened at Lockwood after we left.’ His eyes shone. Owen wanted to know, but there had also been a fear there and knowledge that good or bad news was partly because of what  _they_ had done.

‘We lost our phones,’ Claire added, hers long gone before she realised. ‘I wanted to call, but I didn’t know if it was safe.’

‘Safe?’ Karen asked, and they spent a few minutes describing Eli Mills and Wheatley, the peril they had left them in and the threat to their lives.

‘I took her,’ Claire said after a minute, eyes on the girl in her arms. She wished, for a second that they had brought the car seat in, but as much as Claire’s arms were hurting from holding the infant, she didn’t want to let her go. Karen stuttered, staring at her sister with disbelief. Of all people capable and willing to kidnap a baby, Claire was the last on Karen’s mind.  

‘It was the right thing to do,’ Owen followed with a nod. Karen just gaped at them, sitting too close on the couch like nothing had changed in the last few years, looking the part of a perfectly happy couple with their newborn baby. ‘Claire doesn’t want to know the details, but she’s better off with us than at Lockwood where we found her.’ The eldest stared, blinking at them for a second as she tried to register it all. If the baby had come from Lockwood, and if Owen and Claire felt they were a better opportunity for her, then it had to be bigger than Karen initially thought.  

‘What are you going to do about legalities?’ She asked bluntly, staring them down like misbehaved children awaiting the deliverance of their punishment. Claire looked at Owen, who turned his head to look at her. They hadn’t thought about that. They knew it was a problem, but finding a solution hadn’t been something they managed to access. ‘She’s a baby, she’ll need shots and check-ups and all those sorts of things. She needs to be yours —  _registered_ , or else people are going to ask questions.’ Claire nodded, Owen’s head moving in unison. They had been concerned about a lack of medical records and were hesitant to see a paediatrician until they arrived in Madison. ’How old is she?’ Karen asked and Claire answered instantly, no hesitation. Nine weeks. She smiled, ‘under normal circumstances, you have eight weeks to register the birth of your child. She’s only a week over that. I think we can get away with it.’

‘What if she was already registered?’ Claire started to ask before Owen shook his head reassuring that she wasn’t. He didn’t know that for a fact but could guess off the nature of Maisie’s hearty file that what was happening to her was not something Lockwood’s team wanted to be out there and known. ‘So, she’ll be ours?’

Karen nodded, ‘birth certificate and all’.

Claire looked nervous, fingers pulling at the blanket Maisie was wrapped in as her teeth grazed her lip. The commitment hadn’t felt that big until now, not quite real. Now, they were going to own a piece of paper with their names on it, Claire Dearing and Owen Grady; mother and father. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she could do this.

‘Can I hold her?’ Karen asked, watching with gentle eyes as Claire felt her grip on the baby tighten. She didn’t want to give her over, didn’t want to let go. Just like that, a completely different question answered another worry. Maisie was theirs. ‘I’m not going to hurt her, Claire.’ Her request had gone unanswered, leaving Karen to prod again.

Owen’s hand found Claire’s shoulder before it smoothed its way down her back. ‘It’s just been us for the last few days,’ he answered, explaining away Claire’s hesitance like he was right inside of her head. It was the warmth of his voice and the reassurance in his touch that prompted Claire to extend her arms, baby in her grasp for Karen to hold.

Watching her sister hold the baby twisted in Claire’s gut. She knew Maisie was safe in Karen’s experienced arms, but Owen had been right. It had only been the three of them for the last seven days. They had their rhythm and routine, she was the one who held the baby ninety per cent of the time. She was the one who carried and comforted, no one else took the child to rock, soothe, bounce or feed unless it was Owen. She didn’t know how she felt now that Maisie was missing from their arms and in someone else’s.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Her file said Maisie.’ Claire answered in a heartbeat, smile small at the side of her lips.

Karen echoed the name, rocking the baby in front of her sister as she smiled down at the young face. ‘Are you going to change it?’ She asked, lifting her eyes from the button nose and small pouted lips. ‘When you register her birth you don’t have to keep calling her that.’ Claire could see where the concern had come from. Did they want their daughter to continue upholding the name that was given to her by unloving hands? Or, did they want to start anew, call her something that she and Owen had collaborated and agreed upon.

They hadn’t thought about that.

‘I … I don’t know.’ Claire stuttered. For seven days she had been Maisie, all-consuming and loved in her arms. It was just a name, after all. Owen shrugged beside her when Claire turned to look at him, their bodies creeping closer now that there was no Maisie to hold.

‘Maybe we can talk about it.’ He suggested, putting her panic at ease.

Karen nodded, ‘I’ve got to go to work, but make yourselves at home. The computer in the den doesn’t have a password.’ She knew, the first thing her sister would do would be to jump online and find out as much as she could about registering Maisie’s birth. At least, that was the Claire she had known before a baby had been kidnapped. She handed the baby back, Claire taking the girl eagerly as Karen smiled. ‘Motherhood suits you.’ Karen’s eyes watered, burning despite her want for them not to. She never thought she would see her sister like this. A mother. Even after a few minutes, watching Claire keep hawk eyes on the baby Karen held, she could tell something here was right, no matter the circumstances in which it came to be. ‘Gray will be home at 3:30, I’ll call and let him know you’re here. Do you need anything? There’s food in the fridge. You know where the guest room is. I bet there’s still some baby stuff of Gray’s in the garage if you want to hunt for it. Toys and maybe even a crib? But, call me, okay. I can get you whatever you need after work.’

‘We’ve got it under control,’ Claire told her, smile biting into her cheeks, pressing into a smooth dimple. Karen surged forward, kissing her sister’s forehead as she squeezed her shoulders.

‘I don’t know how you’ve done it.’ She admitted, pulling away before searching for her bag. ‘Seriously though, you guys don’t have to drive around to get things. You’ve been in the car enough.’

They both nodded, agreeing to contact Karen if they needed anything before she walked out the door and left them to the quiet of the house.

‘That went well,’ Owen smiled, arm wrapping around Claire’s shoulders as he pulled her into his chest, lips meeting her temple.

‘She has about eighty more questions.’ Claire hummed, glad they got off with the basics, but she knew there was more to come. Karen, if anything, was not forgetful and she wanted answers to the things she didn’t understand.

[…]

Claire took refuge in the den, fingers tapping away at the keyboard as the internet became accessible to her once again. She didn’t look for Lockwood Manor or updates on the dinosaurs. Her first thought was making Maisie theirs, Claire applying for a registration form before moving onto adoption forums.

She just wanted to know that there was someone else out there. Someone who had taken in a child entirely unexpectedly, who maybe had something to offer. Her alone time lasted the whole of forty-five minutes, Claire trapped in the screen until she heard Maisie’s cries, getting louder as the girl approached in Owen’s arms.

'I think she prefers the car,’ he told her with a shy smile, trying to bounce Maisie in an attempt to soothe her.

Claire nodded, ‘she would. Everything was right there. It was warm, familiar, she had our voices and our smell. Karen’s house is much bigger than the motels too.’ She reached for the baby, taking her out of Owen's arms without needing to stand as Maisie’s cries turned into grizzles. ‘Should we change her name?’

‘Do you want to?’

She shrugged, lip twisted between her teeth. ‘I don’t know.’ That was the name they knew her by and even though Owen said the girl had no mother; Claire wasn’t sure how she felt about taking her name away. ‘The registration forms might take a few days to arrive. We can think about it?’ And it was a ‘ _we’_  problem because they would have to agree on something they both liked. ‘Are you sure about this? Once we sign that paperwork, you’ll be listed as her father.’

‘Claire,’ he stopped her. ‘I already told you; I’m staying.’

‘It’s okay if you don’t want to,’ she told him. ‘I’m giving you an out.’

Owen shook his head, sigh falling from his lips as he dropped to the spare chair. ‘I don’t need an out. I appreciate it, really. But, I’m here for keeps, Claire, what do I need to do to prove that to you?’ He was prepared, whatever her request. ‘Raising a baby, that scares the shit out of me. I won’t lie. But, we’re all she’s got.’

Her smile fluttered, small but warm, flickering to life across her lips as her hand ran soothing lines across Maisie’s partially bold head. ‘I just hadn’t really thought about what we would be to her beyond rescuers. Mom … Dad …’ she exhaled, cheeks puffing as the air passed her lips. ‘It’s a little surreal.’

‘Are you ready for this?’ She had been so concerned about him that Owen wasn’t sure Claire had thought about her own feelings. ‘Because, if you’re not —‘

‘No. I’m … I’m ready for this.’ How many times in the last seven days had she forced herself through those thoughts? Sitting in the car, the pages of her books daunting her until she stared out the window. Across seven days Claire ran through every scenario she could think of. Every positive alternative to their lives with Maisie and every negative. No matter the joy or the pain to each avenue Claire couldn’t see herself choosing not to keep that little girl.

She was scared, terrified that things would go wrong. Worried that Owen would leave, fretful that someone would come and take Maisie away. But, there had been positives, happy, joyful days, getting all of Maisie’s firsts, and being a mother. That’s what she wanted right? When her doctor told of her of the damage endometriosis had done to her ovaries. Claire couldn’t remember much of that day beyond feeling numb. She wanted to be a mother, the second she was told she couldn’t, and now that the opportunity was sitting in front of her she faltered.

‘I’m ready,’ she repeated, to herself and not Owen, lifting Maisie from her lap as she held the girl up in front of her face. ‘What do you think, Puppy?’ At face level, Maisie grinned, hands curling up towards her face. Owen was chuckling, either at the nickname or Claire’s face when Maisie managed a gummy grin. ‘She smiled!’ Claire gaped, pulling Maisie into her chest like the girl was the most precious thing in her world. ‘She smiled!’ She repeated, wide eyes on Owen, her hands holding tight to Maisie.

He chuckled, grin as broad as Maisie’s had been. ‘Yeah, she was doin’ that yesterday.’

Claire stared, ‘she was smiling at you, and you didn’t tell me?’

The apples of his cheeks turned pink, embarrassment and shame sliding over his body as Owen realised that somethings were milestones others wanted to cherish as a ‘first time’. ‘Sorry,’ he squeaked out, not quite meeting her eyes. ‘You were in the shower.’ From now on, everything would be documented, Owen was sure of it, anything new, anything different or remarkable, anything that made his cheeks split in a broad smile.

They were going to be her parents after all. These were the things they were made to celebrate and the stories they would one day tell their  _daughter_  when she was old enough to understand the significance of them.

Maisie was smacking her lips, small legs kicking against Claire’s stomach until Claire lifted her again. In front of her face, the baby gave another grin, fists curled under her chin as a spit bubble formed at her lips. Claire brought her forward, lost in Maisie for a second as she peppered kisses across Maisie’s small cheeks. ‘What?’ She pulled away, catching Owen watching her with a fond smile. His head was tilted, leaning on one angle with a dimple pressed into his cheek.

Owen shook his head, light sparkling in his green eyes. ‘You look good with her.’ She grinned, shy and flirtatious, eyes fluttering away from him as she kissed Maisie’s cheeks again before settling the girl in her arms. ‘And you called her  _Puppy.’_  His smile broke, splitting into a wide grin as she rolled her eyes. ‘Sometimes the nickname just  _picks_  the kid. You have no say in it.’

‘I am going to find something better.’ She insisted, challenging him. The name was sweet, touching even and certainly tailor-made for Maisie, but Claire was sure she could do better. If not, just rile Owen up for the hell of it. ‘I think we need some tummy time.’ She changed the conversation, Owen’s smile biting into his lip as he watched her, listening to the ridiculous high pitched voice she took on for Maisie. ‘You coming, Daddy?’ Claire asked, rocking in the doorway, baby on her hip.

Pulling himself out of the chair, Owen shivered. ‘That just did things to me it shouldn’t have.’ Claire rolled her eyes, chuckle deep in her throat as she kept moving, leaving Owen in her tracks.

[…]

He turned the TV on as a mindless habit. Owen didn’t want it on, they had avoided electronics for a whole week (not entirely as a choice), and he knew there was too much to be filled in on. Naturally, they were both curious about the goings-on at Lockwood Manor. But, in the same motion, they were fearful of the truth. Nothing good in the news was going to come from that place.

It was too late, the screen flashed to life in front of them, Claire trapped under Maisie’s nursing weight, the girl feeding greedily and not so easy to detach. Owen was frozen with the remote in his hand, news already on, report halfway through.

_‘Government officials are still trying to track down the dinosaurs illegally sold at Lockwood Manor last week. There is still no news as to what will be done with the creatures once they are located and reclaimed. The DPG are fighting tirelessly for a solution but were unavailable for comment._

_‘It has been confirmed that Benjamin Lockwood was found dead in his bed on the night of the auction and that he had orchestrated the whole thing from his deathbed. As we have been told by the handler of his accounts and foundation; Eli Mills. We have also been informed that the remaining species unable to be sold at the Lockwood black market event, died due to a gas leak in the basement. Ventilation had also broken down, and with no option other than releasing the creatures to the wild, Mills was left to regretfully watch them suffer._

_‘We ask our viewers at home and across the country that if you see something suspicious, you report it. There is no telling what could be done by the men who successfully bought the remainder of these dangerous creatures.’_

They were still, Owen and Claire unmoving as the news program continued on with the next story. Claire was sure he wasn’t breathing, her eyes on Owen, catching the tension in his muscles through the shirt he wore. ‘Owen,’ her voice was quiet, scared. She wanted to get up, to encourage him to sit down, look at her, and talk. But she couldn’t move with the nursing baby. ‘Owen.’

‘What did we do?’ His voice was far off, hollow as he stared at the screen without even watching it.

Claire shook her head, ‘We didn’t do anything’.

‘We gave them access to that island, Claire. We lead them there, and then we left. We should have stayed. Should have realised what was happening. We could have stopped it.’ But he was wrong. By the time Claire gave Wheatley, and his men access to the tracking system on Isla Nublar they had already captured a large number of dinosaurs, poor creatures already knocked out and caged by the docks. They went to the island to save Blue, to access  _her_  tracking chip, not anyone else’s.

They, too, left the manor in a hurry the second they found Maisie. Owen had been agreeable to that. In their hasty escape they left Zia and Franklin behind, for a week Claire wondered if they were okay. Everything was abandoned the second they found Maisie, and if Claire was completely honest with herself, she didn’t regret a second of it. She wished they could have done something for the creatures that died, knew that if she was there being told to make the choice that it would have been a hard one. But that was neither here nor there, she wasn’t the one who was left to chose between their lives or humanity. She had already made that decision once, and it had turned out the people that helped her make it happen had been lying.

‘I don’t believe Benjamin had anything to do with it.’ Claire admitted quietly to Owen. They had been locked in a cell, looking through the bars at an un-remorseful Eli Mills, taking the opportunity to kick them while they were already down.

‘It was  _all_  Mills.’ Owen offered, voice strained, fingers curled into fists at his side. She wanted to ask about Blue. If Owen thought she was still there, dead or alive. Maybe she had escaped. But, Claire wasn’t the kind of stupid to go rubbing salt in Owen Grady’s festering wounds. She had done it once to get him on that goddamn trip, she wouldn’t remind him of it again. ‘I want to choke that son-of-a-bitch.’ His knuckles had turned white, circulation leaving his skin as Claire watched a vein threaten to burst on his throat.

‘They would have been better off on the island.’ Claire muttered, tear-filled eyes on Maisie. Unable to shake the thought from her head.

Owen grunted, finally moving to turn away from the TV. ‘I think you’re wrong,’ He told her softly despite the tension he held. ‘It would have been far more peaceful than what happened on the island.’ Sure, they had been drugged and forced to endure a boat ride before continuing out their last day in tiny cells. But, gas would have suffocated them quietly rather than burning them up like lava. They wouldn’t have known anything was wrong.  

He wandered off, leaving the room without another word fully aware that Claire was stuck not wanting to disturb the child. She thought about getting up anyway, calling his name and talking through what they had just heard. Claire decided against it. The house was quiet around her until she heard the shower running, confident that he was just trying to cool his head.

[…]

Karen arrived home a few minutes after five, Gray in tow with shopping bags filled to the brim.

Owen was the only one to greet them, both Claire and Maisie tucked away in the guest room drawing out the last few minutes of their nap. Karen gave him a sheepish grin, bags finding a temporary home on the living room floor until she had a chance to tear through them with Claire. ‘I’ve come to realise that buying for little girls is  _way_  too easy.’ That was evident by the long bill she accrued at the checkout. ‘Where’s Claire?’ He pointed a single finger to the ceiling, indicating the guest room that lived on the second floor. ‘Baby sleeping?’ He nodded with eyes on his watch. Owen was due to go wake them any minute. Karen clasped her hand around his forearm, muttering that she would go with a little too much glee.

He was left in the room with Gray, the boy shrugging off his school bag and toeing off his shoes. ‘Hey, Uncle Owen.’ The boy grinned, acting as if nothing had happened in recent months that had left his aunt and pseudo uncle indifferent to the other.  ‘Mom said you and Aunt Claire had a baby.’ Owen nodded, unsure of how to proceed. Did Karen tell him the truth or did she make up the lie Claire wanted so desperately to tell?

Upstairs, Karen tip-toed across the landing. Her palms sat flat against the guest bedroom door, pushing it ajar as she slipped in with the hallway light.

Claire was curled up on one side of the bed, throw blanket cast over her shoulder. She was breathing deeply, a sure sign that her sister was asleep as Karen stepped farther into the room. Maisie was wrapped loosely in a muslin wrap, her little arm free as her small body sat securely in the comfort of a doc-a-tot. She was awake, grey eyes open and blinking at the ceiling. With the state of her blanket, Karen could assume she had been awake for a little while, cooing to herself as she wriggled, Claire only inches away and unaware.

She rounded the bed, sliding herself carefully onto the mattress as she picked Maisie up. The girl settled in her arms easily while Karen tugged at the soft lavender wrap, freeing Maisie’s other scrawny little arm and her legs.

‘Hey, it’s just me.’ Karen soothed when Claire stirred, breath catching in her throat with a small fright. Her sister leant over to put a warm hand on her hip. ‘Just me.’ She repeated, her hand rubbing a soothing circle across Claire’s hip while her other arm rocked Maisie. ‘How did you guys go today?’  

Claire stretched, yawning as her body moved. ‘It’s good to be out of the car.’ She felt like they had some form of control with Maisie’s routine now that they were in a stable environment. ‘I don’t know what to do with myself. So, we just napped and nursed all day.’ She was smiling at the baby, a finger stroking Maisie’s cheek as Karen reluctantly handed her over.

‘I know I said it this morning, but you’ve got the makings of a good mama in you.’ Karen admitted teary-eyed as Claire soothed Maisie with a bounce of her arms and a kiss to the top of her head. ‘You’re obsessed with her.’ She admitted, laughing through the emotion that wanted to bubble forward.

Claire nodded, ‘Owen is too. He’s shy about it, though. I think I keep staring at him like he’s a completely different person. He’s soft, gentle, and intuitive … it makes me feel so warm.’

‘Boy, do I miss that feeling.’ Karen grinned, winking at Claire who only blinked. ‘The  _“I want to make babies with you”_ feeling which is ridiculous because you just had a baby and there’s no way you’re ready for another, but your body is overwhelmed.’ Claire laughed, head shaking at her sister as she swallowed the words she had said. It certainly placed the feeling, the clench in her uterus that so desperately wished it had his life inside of her. Claire shook her head, that wasn’t happening, and it wasn’t going to happen. ‘Is everything okay with you two?’ Karen asked voice lowered even though she knew Owen was downstairs with Gray. ‘I mean, this is a lot. A baby? Another Jurassic World related incident. I spoke to you a week ago, and you were nervous about going to see him, and now, here you are.’

All she could do was nod, ‘I think … yeah. He said he was staying.’ Karen hummed, not wanting to push her sister on the subject anymore. She had known Owen long enough to have a good perception of his personality. He was not the kind to be held down, a voyager of sorts left to drift in and out of whatever life he pleased. He loved her sister, Karen knew that much, but he was a flighty thing. A baby (Maisie) would have scared him senseless. Maybe even enough that he felt the need to flee. Claire said he was staying true and as far as Karen knew, he couldn't lie to the redhead. 

‘You’re staying here for a while, aren’t you?’ Karen asked, unsure of her sister’s intentions. She beamed when Claire nodded, confirming a small plan to stay for a week or two. ‘You’re welcome for as long as you need, Claire. Don’t go putting that sweet girl back in the car until you’re ready.’ Selfishly, she wanted to argue that her sister stay in Madison and settle down roots.

‘We’ll have to go home at some point,’ she had an apartment to sort out and Owen a piece of land at the foot of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Claire knew he wanted to go back to it. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. ‘Hey Karen,’ she caught herself on a different thought. ‘Do you remember that song dad used to sing when he was tucking us in?’ Karen beamed. She remembered. He only ever really sang it to Claire, a song for each daughter, but the eldest had heard it enough to know exactly what Claire was talking about.

_I love you a bushel and a peck_

_A bushel and a peck though you make my heart a wreck_

_Make my heart a wreck, and you make my life a mess_

_Make my life a mess, yes a mess of happiness._

‘I  _feel_  it every time I look at her.’ Claire offered, her eyes on the little girl wrapping a hand around her finger. She only had eyes for Maisie and Karen couldn’t find an excuse to blame her. ‘It’s silly, isn’t it? To love her that much? It’s only been a week.’

Karen leaned in, pressing a fond kiss to her sister’s forehead, Claire barely lifting her eyes. ‘Not at all.’ She squeezed Claire’s arm, scooting closer to admire the baby like her sister did.

A throat cleared by the door at the same time someone knocked against the jamb. The two Dearing women lifted their heads to see a softly smiling Owen, Owen hand in the pocket of his jeans. ‘Gray suggested we order pizza for dinner. Is that okay with you two?’

There was something in his smile and the small crack of his voice that told Claire he had heard. She wasn’t sure of how much but knew he had been listening. How quickly she fell for that baby was no secret to him, but it seemingly continued to catch Owen off guard every time.

They grinned at Gray’s suggestion, Karen heaving a big sigh of relief. She had stopped by the store on her way home but had forgotten entirely about feeding an extra two adults. ‘C’mon, let's go downstairs. We'll order pizza, Gray can meet his cousin, and I can show you everything I bought.’

‘Bought?’ Claire turned wide eyes on her sister, a question forming on her lips. Owen shuffled in, easily lifting Maisie from Claire’s arms as he uttered something about her needing her hands free. 'Karen Lousie Mitchell, how much did you spend?!’

‘We're not discussing that,’ she announced, turning her head and pulling herself off the bed. ‘I’ll go get the take-out menus.’ With that, Karen was gone.

'It's a lot,' Owen laughed, waiting for Claire to get up and follow before he left the room.

 

* * *

 

 

[and here's the link to my ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/A431408E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, don't forget to tell me what you think! How long do you think Owen and Claire will stay with Karen? What's Gray's first reaction to Maisie + do you think I should include it in the next chapter? What else are you looking forward to seeing with these two and their little family?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first night at Karen’s

‘Can I hold her?’ Gray asked hesitantly, watching the adults in front of him as Owen kept a safe hold on the tiny baby girl. She looked so fragile in his broad arms that Gray wasn’t entirely too sure about his request. His voice shook, eyes on the baby now instead of the people nodding affirmations.

‘Sit down,’ Claire suggested, stepping towards him even though her arms were void of the baby. She had seen now why Owen took Maisie when they left the guest room. The second she laid eyes on Gray, Claire rushed forward, wrapping him in a tight hug. There was no worry about crushing the baby, only squeezing the life out of a nephew she hadn’t seen all year.

Claire felt guilty. The DPG had taken control of everything in her life, as work always did. It left her with a limited schedule and no time to visit family like she had promised. It had been the first time in years she hadn’t seen them regularly. Although, it had happened to work in her favour.

Karen lied to Gray. She withheld Maisie’s truth when she picked her son up from school and told him his aunt was waiting at home with Owen and a newborn. He had asked quietly where the baby came from to which Karen answered; Claire. He didn’t ask anything more than that, just nodded and quietly helped his mom excitedly shop.

‘She's a bit protective,’ Karen laughed, watching as Claire instructed Gray on how to hold his arms before she let Owen give him the baby. She stepped back, happy with the bend in his elbows while Owen relinquished his hold on Maisie.

‘Be careful, I love her.’ Claire muttered quietly. Owen’s hands found her shoulders, squeezing softly before he gently nudged her to sit on the couch beside the teenage boy. She leaned in, adjusting Gray’s hands as she tugged on Maisie’s blanket, pulling the hem away from her small chin. Owen encouraged her to lean back, his hand warm on her shoulder keeping hot of the restraint she was struggling to rein in.  

‘Did you expect anything less from Aunt Claire?’ Gray joked, a smile cracking across his cheeks and pressing into dimples. His aunt was protective to the bone, even when she had pushed people away. It wasn’t always the first trait she chose to display, but it was there. Claire was protective of those she loved, even when she had pushed them away and she was protective of the park she treasured,  directed at loved ones or the park she treasured. ‘She’s so little,’ awe got the better of him, the boy’s jokes over as he stared wide-eyed at the tiny little girl he held. To Claire, it reminded her of the first time she saw Owen holding Maisie, the large man finally giving in and the scared, helpless looks he threw to her occasionally. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were having a baby?’

Even though Claire hadn’t seen them throughout the year, they still managed semi-regular Skype sessions. There was on avoiding giving her family big news. Claire hesitated, her breathing growing heavy as her hand, sitting on top of Owen’s at her shoulder squeezed down. ‘Truthfully?’ Owen asked, stepping in to take the heat off Claire. ‘We wanted to keep her to ourselves.’ It sat on the lie between what was real and what wasn’t. Owen wanted desperately to pack Maisie and Claire back into the car and hit the road again, just the three of them.

‘I mean, Mom might have been on the first flight over, but we would have given you your space.’

Gray wasn’t wrong, or so Claire and Owen could assume. But, they also saw in his nervous smile that Karen could be unpredictable especially when it came to Claire. If they had called, telling her of an expectant new arrival, Karen would have been in California in a heartbeat. She never would have left her sister's side. ‘Your aunt and I …’ He was ready to spin another lie, pulling a tale out of the air that would stop the boy from finding fault in their logic.

Claire stopped him, hand finding his on her shoulder. ‘We’re adopting her.’ Claire wanted to lie to Gray like she wanted to lie to Karen but it wasn’t right. She was useless at lying, and this was a truth that would eventually come out. Maisie wouldn’t just disappear in a week or two, she would remain for the rest of their lives. Sooner or later someone was going to realise she didn’t come from Claire’s womb.

They couldn’t know she  _took_  this baby. But, just like Maisie, Zach and Gray would not need the sordid details. They would get a watered down explanation of events where no one saw pity on the girl who desperately needed rescuing.

‘I was worried you might not accept her if you knew she wasn’t ours.’ Just as she was worried her very intelligent, well put together nephew would question the stance of hers and Owen’s relationship and what drove them to adopt. Gray, like everyone else, knew Owen and Claire had split. She was waiting for the question that outed them, but it didn’t seem to come.

‘Why wouldn’t I accept her?’ Gray asked, having the decency to look hurt. Claire didn’t blame him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her middle and scooted closer, further from Owen and nearer to the baby that had become her heart.

She shrugged, ‘I don’t know.’ An embarrassed flush coated her cheeks, making them pink as Claire felt her eyes water. She shrugged again, ‘it’s weird. Isn’t it?’

Gray shook his head. His arms moved under Maisie with small, careful movements like he was scared he would drop her or startle the girl with her open eyes a little crossed. ‘I think it’s nice, actually.’ He grinned, meeting Claire’s eyes, her fingers gracing the base of the wrapped bundle Maisie was curled into. ‘Any kid would be lucky to have you two, and besides, I don’t think enough people adopt.’ He chuckled when Claire shifted, leaning forward to wrap and arm around the back of his neck as she kissed his cheek. She muttered something sweet, telling him he was a good kid as Gray blushed. ‘Zach and I can be her big brothers if you need. Obviously, he doesn’t know yet, but I don’t think he’ll need any convincing ’ Gray grinned, smile broad across his cheeks as Claire teared up again.

Leave it to Gray to make her smile. That boy had proved he was nothing but pure joy (and energy) when needed. Claire had learned, in the years since the first Jurassic World incident that he was always an honest and reliable ear … for the more teen-friendly issues in life. She valued their visits with the boys, no matter how long or short, and the time she had to bask in his positivity. Thankful that the incident hadn’t scarred him beyond measure.

‘I think it would be wonderful if you boys acted as her big brothers.’ The tears were burning in her eyes now as she turned to give Owen an overwhelmed smile. This should have been hard. They should have been struggling with a new baby and an apprehensive family. It wasn’t like anything Claire had expected in the last few days.

‘Can I bombard you with gifts now?’ Karen asked, drawing her sister’s attention as she managed to tear her own eyes away from the careful hold her son had on his new cousin. It was there Claire noticed the bags filled to the brim.

‘Karen,’ she gasped. ‘This is too much. I told you we didn’t need anything.’

Her sister shrugged, indifferent. ‘I got carried away.’ Claire nodded, eyes wide in disbelief. ‘I told you I always wanted a niece.’ She grinned. ‘Besides, Gray is seventeen, I know I don’t have many of his baby things left. And sisters are supposed to help each other.’ Claire could remember an occasion, when Zach was little, where her sister begged her to think about having children. There were parts of her firstborn’s infant-hood she did not wish to part with. Karen had concluded that it would be easier to let go of Zach’s baby things if Claire was taking them on. She had only been twenty at the time and home for the first time in a year.

Claire gave her sister a nod, legs crossed on the couch and a little weary. With that, Karen started pawing through the bags, pulling an item out each time and gushing over it before she handed it to Claire. The bags were full of baby clothes in a range of sizes and colours. She was thankful for that, the sea of pink kept itself limited. Along with garish prints. Karen had actually managed to shop appropriately, seeking out soft and comfortable fabrics in earthy tones. They were practical, and the sheer size of them had Claire swooning beside her sister. There were other things; toys, play mats, and a realisation that Karen had left a bouncer in the car, purchasing it even though Maisie wasn’t big enough to use it yet.

She was still going by the time their pizza arrived, Gray and Owen entertaining themselves with some game or another playing on the TV over Claire and Karen’s heads. Despite the game and the pizza, Owen was fascinated in the things Karen was discussing. He wanted to sit with them and learn every new item that was now in their possession.

They had stretched Maisie out on the floor beside them, new toy under her fingers as she worked on strengthening the muscles in her neck. He couldn’t stop watching her, adoring the humour in her vulnerability, small body trying to lift her head only to drop it back to the blanket under her cheek. Owen was waiting for a cry, ready for the girl’s head to come down too hard, her pain rolling across the room as he leapt to her rescue. Maybe it was just that he wanted to hold her, but understood she needed this time on her own to work on motor skills and muscular strength. He just needed her to cry or grizzle for an excuse to step forward and take her in his arms.

Owen was struggling with sharing the baby, the girl passed from Gray to Karen, to her time on the floor. He knew Claire would be aching for her just as he was, the exact same thoughts running through her head. As the kind and loving  _partner_ that he was he knew he would let her be the first to hold Maisie again.

[…]

Owen had to help Karen dig through the garage once they were done with dinner. She was sure there was a crib in there somewhere. Fortunately for him, the divorce Karen over went two and a half years ago managed to help clean out some of her clutter.

‘You gotta throw some of this out, Karen.’ He grunted, moving a massive box filled with god knows what. She only chuckled, arms crossed as she stood behind him, Owen slowly making his way to the back of the garage.

‘You’ll understand when Maisie gets older. They grow up so fast, and you want to cling to everything.’ He grunted, moving another box to the side, this one labelled ‘LEGO’ as he pushed deeper, hoping to  _God_ there was a crib in there somewhere.

It took them close to an hour to wade through the boxes until Owen found the crib, disassembled and dusty, leaning against the far wall. He didn’t mind that it had taken them so long. Claire was upstairs in the guest room feeding Maisie before bed. She was nervous and hesitant about informing Karen of the supplemental nursing system they were using rather than a bottle Maisie struggled to drink from. He was happy to provide a distraction for Karen so Claire could feed her baby in peace.

They carried the pieces upstairs and into the house, Claire finished in the bedroom when Owen knocked. She was cautious about the crib, could see it hollow out her eyes as Karen helped lay out the structure. For the last week, Maisie had slept close to them, set up in a portable bassinet basket only an arms reach away. In recent nights, Maisie had moved from the bassinet to the dock-a-tot Owen had purchased. It sat snug on the mattress, allowing Claire to sleep right beside the baby she had grown so attached to. She hadn't protested when Karen suggested they dig out Gray’s old crib and now Claire was left biting her tongue.

‘I thought maybe I should bathe her?’ Claire voiced her idea to those present, both Karen and Owen lifting their heads to ask if she needed assistance. Claire shook her head, the bathroom was adjoined to the guest bedroom, she knew they were only a quick shout away if something went awry. ‘I know not to run it too hot.’ Claire added, looking to Karen for confirmation. Her sister nodded, hands on her hips with downcast eyes as she surveyed the pieces of the crib in front of her. ‘Looks like you guys have your work cut out for you.’ She laughed, bumping her hip with Owen’s, Maisie held securely in her arms.

He smiled easily, the same sly smile that told her he had everything under control. Owen straightened his back to puff his chest forward, ‘Nothing I can’t handle’. She wanted to warn him against sounding too confident too early. Karen snickered at the other end of the crib, sure Scott had said the same thing before he failed miserably. ‘The dads build the crib. I think I’ve got this.’

Karen laughed again, ‘Okay, well, I’m going to get Gray to see if he can find a manual online … just in case.’ She left him with an allan key and a plastic bag full of screws that belonged to one hole or another. He was trying to build a cabin in California, a crib was nothing in comparison.

‘Need me to fetch you anything?’ He asked, looking towards Claire who was still in the room, watching the dormant pieces of furniture. Owen was stalling, and they both knew it. He had no idea where to start and likely needed assistance if it was going to be done correctly.

She shook her head, ‘Just make sure its safe before I put our baby in that thing’.

‘Nothing less than safe and sound for my girl.’ He beamed, teeth flashing confidence as he leant in and kissed the side of her cheek. Claire rolled her eyes, unconvinced as she eyed the old crib, wondering if now was too early to announce Maisie would be sleeping right beside her and not in the other corner of the room in a seventeen-year-old piece of wood he was likely going to construct as an unintentional death trap.

‘You know the safety standards have changed a lot in the last few years.’ Claire tossed the comment over her shoulder, headed towards the bathroom as the words left her. He laughed, ready with a quip on his tongue but chose to let it go.

Owen was inspecting the screws and laying them out on the carpet next to the sections of the crib he most strongly felt they belonged to. His work was halted when he heard Maisie’s cry, the sound setting his whole body on ice. It took a second for him to leap up and barrel into the bathroom, heart pounding as every worst case scenario ran a stampede through his head.

In the moderate guest bathroom, Claire was sitting on her knees, back bent as she leant over the bathtub. The water was only a few inches high as Maisie’s small bare legs kicked through it. She was wailing, her whole body shaking, mouth spread as wide as it would go as her little hands rolled into fists and her arms went rigid while her entire body shook. Claire turned helpless eyes on him, full and desperate. She didn’t know what to do or how to calm the emotion that was rattling through the girl’s tiny body.

‘I don’t think she likes that much.’ He offered, earning an eye roll from Claire. Despite the concern and Owen’s idiotic comments, her shoulders relaxed. They could fix this. Owen tapped at Claire’s elbow, asking her quietly to lift Maisie out of the water as he joined her on his knees at the edge of the tub. The water was warm, not enough that he was concerned about burning Maisie’s sensitive new flesh or cold enough that she would freeze. He assumed it was just the water that was the problem as he cupped a handful between large palms and gently tipped it over her legs. She flinched, body jumping at the contact as another big cry pushed its way out of giant lungs. ‘Here,’ He grunted, pushing into a stand as Claire’s ears were left with the sound of his zipper and the rustle of fabric.

When she looked up, he was undressing, shirt gone as his jeans hung loosely against his hips. ‘What are you doing?’ Her throat felt dry, eyes on the plains of Owen’s stomach as her own flipped.

‘Getting in with her.’ The answer was simple, Owen shaking off his jeans and tossing them to the side. His socks went too, lying haphazardly against the wall. Claire watched the thick fabric for a second, lost to the thoughts of his body radiating warmth right beside her. Owen cleared his throat, snapping Claire’s attention towards him. His arms were extended, waiting for Claire to hand the baby over. There was a soft smile on his face, comforting and reassuring as he flexed his fingers inches away from Maisie’s kicking feet. ‘She’ll be fine.’ He promised with gentle words as Claire lifted Maisie towards his hands.

Owen stepped into the shower cubicle in just his underwear, Maisie’s cheek pressed to his right pec. Claire stood, watching with curious eyes as he rubbed Maisie’s back trying to calm her as he angled the shower head away from their bodies before turning it on.

‘Not too hot.’ Claire warned with heavy concern. He took it, despite knowing not to let the water run too hot. To ease her mind, Owen let Claire check the temperature, shower door open as she reached in. The water trickled across her wrist as Maisie cried in her ear, the baby’s upset making her heart ache. She just wanted to take Maisie from Owen, wrap her in a soft blanket and hold her until the world made sense again.

‘Maybe we should give it a rest for tonight?’ She met his eyes, hesitant and worried for a second before she dropped her gaze to the baby, her hand leaving the water to stroke the back of Maisie’s head.

Owen shrugged, ‘I’m already wet now’. Claire didn’t look convinced as the baby continued to cry, almost swallowed whole by Owen’s large hand, her body alien in comparison to his. ‘It’s just water, Claire, it can’t hurt her.’ He reached for the shower head, aiming the spray towards his body. Owen held Maisie expertly, his hand cupping her head while his broad arm supported her.

The water fell, spitting itself across their bodies while Claire remained dry, cheek pressed to the open door jamb. She watched as Maisie’s tortured cries calmed, face growing slack against his chest.

‘Just like that?’ Claire laughed, the sound small and wistful, caught in disbelief. He just seemed to  _know_ these things. He filled the places in her knowledge, making up for hesitation and concern. She watched them both, heart thudding in her chest as a warmth over took her. This was the choice they made. A life for the three of them and it was so utterly  _mundane._

‘I got the touch.’ She was jealous, if only for a minute. Owen deserved this win just like Claire deserved every other. They were a team, and it was only fair that he had a chance to triumph with Maisie. Besides, the girl looked positively sweet, eyes closed, small mouth moving as the shower rained down on her, warming her skin as her heart beat against Owen’s. Claire wanted to join them, a need pulling in her chest, desperate for her heart to beat with theirs. She felt drawn to that space, Owen and Maisie in a shower cubicle, their bond forming as she stood as a bystander.

Claire pulled away, they had hovered around each other so much in the last seven days. It was only fair to give Owen his space to let him flourish. 'I think I might go finish your job.’ She told him, voice quiet for their tender moment.

'The crib?’ He asked, sure she would just leave it for him to finish. Claire gave him a nod, a proud smile creeping across her cheeks with a determined spark. ‘Hey, now you can keep up on those safety standards.’ Claire rolled her eyes, hand pulling away from Maisie’s back.

‘I’m right outside the door if you need anything.’ Her eyes were on the baby, worried to leave them alone in fear of something going wrong.

‘Claire,’ Owen caught her attention. ‘We’ll be fine.’ She knew that. Claire nodded. She trusted him. It just felt weird leaving them. Nevertheless, Claire found the courage to leave the cozy bathroom and to brace the uneasiness of building Maisie a crib. Karen was back, sitting on the floor with her iPad beside her hip, webpage loaded thanks to Gray.

‘Oh, hey, Owen not finishing the job?’

Claire shook her head, ‘We’re trading roles for the night. Turns out Maisie likes the idea of a shower with him better than a bath.’

Karen gave her sister a reassuring smile and a shrug, ‘Babies are weird’.

[…]

‘You’ve got to put her to bed eventually, Claire.’ Owen’s voice was drowsy, exhausted despite the quiet day they had, away from tiring stretches of road. Claire was swaying beside the end of the bed, hips doing figure-eights as she moved between rocking and bouncing the baby in her arms.

It took Karen and Claire fifteen minutes to assemble the crib. The eldest Dearing sibling chalked it up to reading the instructions, a hearty stab at her ex-husband who made these processes harder by avoiding the easy way. Claire had tried to claim that Maisie couldn’t sleep in the designated crib without a mattress. It turned out that Claire’s preparedness had been somewhat of a hereditary trait. Karen had purchased a new cot mattress knowing it was something they would definitely need. She seemed to deflate when Karen announced that considerable detail before she called for Gray to fetch it from the car.

They had said goodnight to Karen and Gray thirty minutes ago, but Claire had yet to split herself from the baby she rocked.

She shook her head at Owen’s suggestion, ‘I don’t have to put her in the crib’. She didn’t, but he really wished she would. Part of Owen wanted to take Maisie and put her to bed himself, but he knew this had to be on Claire’s terms. ‘But, she should sleep in the crib.’ Claire added her mind in two parts. Her mind was at war between what she wanted and what she knew she needed. Watching Maisie’s sweet sleeping face in the yellow light filtering in from the bathroom didn’t help at all. Claire just wanted to keep holding her.

‘Here’s an idea,’ he offered. ‘Why don’t you put her in the crib and come to bed, let your body rest. Let both of your bodies be apart for an hour … two … until she wakes up. Once she’s up, she can sleep right here.’ Owen tapped the middle of the mattress.

‘What if she wakes up the second I put her down?’

He shrugged, ‘Well, then lucky you’. They had to try to give the baby a routine and let their minds be apart from her even if it was only for an hour. He watched as she worked up the courage, shoulders rolling and she took the first step towards the crib. She kissed Maisie’s forehead before she lowered the baby to the mattress.

Claire hesitated, hands-free of the baby as she rested her palm on Maisie’s belly. She grounded the girl, breath held in fear of Maisie’s cry. ‘What if she wakes Karen and Gray up?’ There was concern that when Maisie woke and they struggled to settle her she would wake the house with her impatient wails.

Owen gave Claire another small shrug, ‘I think they knew what they were signing up for’. At most, he was sure Karen would come knocking to see if they needed any help. With two sons, he was sure she would have some tricks up her sleeve. ‘C’mere, Mama,’ he beckoned.

She moved, hand dragging itself from Maisie’s sleeping body as he feet shuffled across the floor. Claire climbed onto the bed with heavy limbs, exhausted from Karen's energy and excitement. It was good to be  _there_ , upholding some semblance of  _home_  as the dust settled around them and the storm calmed. They could relax now, miles from California and Lockwood Manor.

‘I like it when you call me ‘ _mama’._ ’ Claire told him, settling with her head on his chest, Owen’s arm wrapping around her back as she settled half on top of him. He couldn’t complain as his heart swelled in his chest, Claire warm and smelling of vanilla around him. It had been so long since he got to hold her like this. So long, it had threatened to vacate his mind altogether. But, here she was, reminding his senses of her, letting his memories etch themselves around this new moment.

He liked calling her ‘ _Mama’._ There was something strangely comforting in letting that word pass his lips and catching it relax across her shoulders. It made this real. Not that it was any less. But, he worried things were moving too fast or too slow, and then he would call her mama with the baby in his arms, and it felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

He wondered, briefly, but on occasion that if they had stayed together would they be in this place now. Their own baby in his arms while they visited Karen for the holidays. He speculated to himself if the two of them would have had a little red headed baby, nearing a year old, hair threatening to curl on her head like his had done at the same age. Owen shook himself from those thoughts each and every time. They would have torn themselves apart. Things would have been different. They never would have found Maisie, and she  _needed_  them. When he thought about it, it felt like she was left for there, destined to be seen and taken in. Maisie was theirs.

Owen kissed the top of her head, touch soft as she shifted in his arms. He body sighed, sounds escaping her lips with small noises as she tried to make herself comfortable. One of his hands lazily found her hair, fat singers sliding through red silk as he listened to her little sighs and faint grunts. ‘You sound like my puppy.’ It took a second before her finger jabbed itself into his ribs, retaliation for his comment.

A grunt escaped his lips. Claire caught him unawares with her assault as Owen reacted immediately, body and limbs moving before he could catch himself. He twisted, moving until his body was hovering above hers, Claire left gulping in a deep breath beneath him. ‘What did you poke me for?’ It was years of play fighting with his brother, being attacked without warning, and then his military service that had him react so quickly and in such a manner. There was a smile on his face, pushing through his faux scowl as he looked down at her half winded.

She scowled back, the look was non-threatening and faintly cute. He knew she meant it, could read it behind her eyes from past experience with a disgruntled and slightly annoyed Claire Dearing. ‘Don’t call me a puppy.’ She fought, the same tone she had used when she protested the name for Maisie. Owen grinned, the smile breaking across his cheeks. He wanted to lean down, to kiss her, his lips on hers sweet and tender. He wasn’t sure if he should.

Claire had reached for him, her hands on his sides, fingers gentle with their barely there touch as he felt the faint tickle of her nails, hands hovering. She didn’t know where to lay down her touch, so it remained scattered, finding a plane of bare skin where his shirt had moved. He was warm, radiating it as she took in the smell of sandalwood and engine grease he always seemed to ooze.

‘I just wanted to cuddle,’ Claire told him quietly as she swallowed a lump in her throat. They hadn’t done anything but the position, and their proximity was turning her on. They had lived off sexual energy in the past, but this wasn’t what they needed now, or at least Claire was determined to not let it dominate all aspects of their relationship.

Owen softened, half melting at her words as his elbows shook from his weight. He shifted, returning his back to the mattress as Claire shuffled back towards him. She threw an arm over his chest and tucked an ankle behind his knee her body flush with the hot mass of his. He had a hand rubbing at her back in long full strokes. From her perch she could spot Maisie in her crib, cheeks illuminated in the moonlight while she slept soundly, unbothered by the sleeping arrangements.

The baby sighed, small sound easing an ache in Claire’s chest as she settled against Owen. Just like that, Claire felt at peace for the first time in well over a year.


End file.
